


Friends Of Silver

by savagedream



Series: Friends of Silver [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, And their equally stubborn companions, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of past abuse, Minor Character Death, Obnoxiously sassy stags of unusual size, Original Character(s), head-canons on cultures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 92,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savagedream/pseuds/savagedream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nim had been on her own for as long as she could remember, and she preferred it that way.  To be close to others meant to trust them and Nim did not trust.  The few she did were few and far between and most often long forgotten.  Nim's only constant is Toron, the stag that has made up the only other part of her family.  Though quickly that is all to change when Nim meets those she had forgotten and others she never wished to remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Her

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the remake of Nim's story, "Friends of Silver" so if you enjoyed that you will hopefully enjoy this just as much. Though this story covers the same events as its predecessor the way things come about are different. (so this isn't just a regurgitation of the old one I swear)
> 
> Also this is un-beta so forgive any little mistakes!
> 
> Without further ado! Here is the story!

She was the one who found Nim.

Broken

Bloodied

Bare

Nim had been caught off guard by a small pack of orcs. It had been foolish and stupid to think she was safe this close to their grounds. She had seen no signs of them for weeks though, and had simply thought they were not around. Oh, how she had been so wrong. There were only a handful of them but it was a handful against a much underfed elf. She had figured herself as good as dead if it wasn’t for the sudden swarm of arrows that imbedded deep within the orcs flesh. Nim had crawled away from the small battle but could not get very far with a dislocated ankle and a broken wrist.

She had found her shortly after.

Nim had cowered and then lashed out. She had not laid eyes upon another elf since . . . since a time she did not wish to recall. Nim had avoided their settlements their paths and anything to do with the creatures for the last few years and had no plans to change that. Elves lead to death, not her own really but she had seen enough death around them to know they were not good things to be around for long periods of times. Or at all if Nim had her way.

She had waited though, had called off the elves that had jumped to her defense when Nim had pulled a dagger on her. Had tolerated the fawn as it charged around her bleating and stamping his hooves. She spoke to Nim had offered her food and water and whatever care she could provide at a distance. Slowly she moved closer, and Nim let her.

Nim was tired, was hurt, and was quickly losing her willingness to keep the elf at a distance. When she laid a hand on Nim she had flinched. Nim had met few in her short years free and she had let even fewer lay a hand upon her. Still Nim let the strange elf grab her hand and comfort her, allowed her to help her to her feet and half carry her to their camp.

She cleaned Nim’s wounds, bandaged them, without batting a lash at the grotesqueness of it all. Nim had far more wounds than the ones she had gained earlier in the day. Wounds that had come days weeks even months before then. Some in worse states of infections than others. She had servants who tried to step in but she refused turning each of them away as she worked.

She seemed to see to know Nim would not allow anyone near herself but her, seemed to know that she was not to get any answers if she even asked Nim. Much to Nim’s relief, she did not even try to question her. Not how she came to be in such a state, not of her home, or the strange little fawn that guarded her like a dragon over his hoard, not even her name.

She took Nim with her though, setting her upon her own horse when she saw Nim was too weak to walk. Spoke to her even when Nim had not opened her mouth to speak once since her finding, three months before. Sat through the long nights when Nim woke screaming and lashing out at things that were not there. Sang lullabies and weaved dreams so that Nim could find rest even when she did not.

*

And now she was dead.

Nim fell to her knees and press her head into the ashes of the battle field. The ground was still warm from when the dragon had unleashed its fury and killed all in its path. Her stag stood next to her, ever watchful of dangers on ground so fresh with death. Nim did not move for some time the soot bleeding into her hair and turning it a sickly grey. She stayed until the ground finally grew cold as the air, winter quickly coming to rise.

_We should go Nim._

Nim did not speak, as she had not for some time, but she stood complying with the stag’s suggestion. Her gaze trailed over the blackened earth watching the snow begin to hide it away. The dragon’s mighty form lay in the distance deep blue scales glittering in the fading light. The stag snorted his protest but Nim did not listen as she started towards the beast. She had never seen a dragon and had always been rather fascinated with them and even though she wanted nothing more to spit at this one’s feet she could not help herself. She couldn’t even find it within herself to hate it completely. That fire had burned out of her a long time ago as this one’s flames now had.

Its teeth were as long as she was tall, its eyes staring sightlessly out to its destruction. The creature’s scales were still warm, nearly hot, to the touch. As they would be for some time, a fire that old was not easily cooled. She traced the heavy scales around the eye before grasping one and with a grunt pulling it from the creature’s body. The end once attached to the flesh steamed in the cool air.

Nim turned motioning for her stag but stopped short when something glittered on the ground. For a moment she thought it to be a bit of snow but when the glittering did not fade she knew it was much more.

A single gem, like starlight.

Nim curled her fist around it a new wave of agony passing over her, nearly bringing her to her knees. She pressed the jewel to her breast gasping in air as it seemed all of it had left her. She had not known such agony since. . .

Slowly she brought her shaking fist to her face and uncurled her fingers to reveal the jewel. She would not have wanted Nim to weep like this, would not have wanted her to feel such agony as she did now. To cry, to mourn, it was all an insult to her and everything she believed in.

*

She was the mother Nim no longer had.

A sister.

A friend.

“Nimineth.” Her voice was low, unused and rough.

“Nimineth.” She had repeated seeming to gauge the name as she spoke it, “Snowdrop.” She repeated it in the common language, “It suits you.” She ruffled Nim’s snowy hair.

They had to sheer it off when she had first found Nim. It was long and tangled and too far gone to brush it through. It was now a simple bob around her head like a young girl would often have. Nim didn’t seem to mind, she nearly look relieved to have it gone. She had run her fingers through the shortened locks and closed her eyes. Many thought she was going to weep for losing it but much to their surprise she smiled.

“A gentle flower with eyes like a storm.” She had said touching Nim’s chin.

Nim had started to smile again after that. Began to speak a little more, though it was only ever to her. As she regained her strength and her wounds began to heal it seemed little pieces of herself healed as well. Nim started to show more of herself beyond the stoic creature that everyone had come to know. The first look into Nim was when it rained. She had sat outside far from the others with her head tilted back as the rain poured, one of those rare storms that was rain and little more. Everyone had watched her for hours as she sat letting the rain wash over her.

Then Nim started to dance. She jumped to her feet at the storm reached its peak and the rain all but hid her away from the eyes of the others. If it was not for her white garment they would have lost her completely. The dancing melted into a game of tag. Nim and the fawn taking turns chasing one enough through the mud. It was childish and was rather frowned upon by the others but _She_ had seen it as more. Without another thought she dashed out into the rain despite the protests and joined Nim in her little game without a bit of hesitation in their movements.

Nim recalled at that moment she had felt truly alive again. The rain pounding against her until her flesh was nearly numb, her flesh had felt as cold as ice but she was all but an inferno within. She cried out and laughed and ran about. Her bandaged would need to be changed and she would ache in the morning but she would not have changed it for the world.

*

Now everything was cold, and quiet.

She was alone.

There was no storm, no rain to hide her, no game to occupy . . . no her. Just an empty field scorched black and littered with dead and a foolish girl who had hoped to find what was so clearly hopeless. A dragon would not spare those if they were mighty or if they were good, it killed all.

She was alone.

“Toron.” She choked out, her voice raw and hardly above a whisper.

The stag heard her though, he always heard her, and quickly came to her side nosing worriedly at her neck as she quivered in the ashes. Quietly she tucked the hot scale into one of the bags upon the creatures back before pulling herself up, the jewel still tight in her hand.

“Take me far from here Toron, I do not wish to see this place anymore.” She whispered hating the way she sounded so small.

 _Yes_.

The creature moved at a speed that was unfit to the side of its form, a grace that seemed unlikely and almost unnatural. Yet at the same time it suited the creature. The way he sprang from rock to rock hooves firm against the earth, the threat of slipping on such thin limbs never thought of. It was tireless charging over the ground without a falter in step or breath. Just the smooth motion of the muscles beneath its skin and the endless pattern of breath leaving and entering its lungs.

It soothed Nim in a way that nothing else ever would.  

**

She did not always have Him to sooth her though.

Back when he was small, still had spots and his antlers were nothing but little nubs on the tops of his head. He could not sooth her beyond curling against her and hoping that his little bony form would bring her a bit of comfort. He learned right away that repetitive sound was the best way and would sometimes trot or run around her for hours on end creating worn circled around her. Still, sometimes even that was not enough.

That is where she came in. When Toron grew tired and needed to rest she would tell tales of the world. Sometimes she would spend hours just describing a single tree or the way something smelled or sounded. Nim seemed to revel in each little detail creating an image within her mind that would chase away the horrible memories of her past.

Her favorite subject was that of her husband. He was the new ruler of the woodland realm, a title he had gained after the death of his father during the dark days. It was a position he took with great honor and great sadness. She was so proud of him and had been pained to part with him when she was needed with some of the rebuilding in her homeland near the coast. She was on her way home now in fact.

She never much talked about how he looked beyond the regal but welcoming way he held himself. Though Nim had figured he was fair haired and very tall, even for an elf. Mostly she spoke about his love of the flora and fauna and how excited he would be to meet a creature like Toron. How he would spend days walking around their home woven so perfectly into the plant life that you could walk right past it unless you knew what to look for.

He was also very kind, according to her. Kind but firm and very much loved by those around him. He was not one of many words and sometimes looked rather indifferent but he was as welcoming as any other elf. She had told Nim that the war had taken its toll on him more so than many others, which was why he appeared so cold on the outside. The loss of his father and the sudden thrust into such an important role would take a great deal from one’s outward look on life.

“Do you know of the war?”

To most it would have been a foolish question to ask, most all knew of those dark times. Yet, with how Nim acted her face blank whenever it is mentioned you could believe that she had no knowledge of it. She thought herself right for a moment or two as Nim returned her question with a blank stare. She did not ask questions often, did not want to pry at someone who was so . . . broken. Still she could not ignore the curious whispers of the others nor her own curious thoughts.

“I am going to bed.” Nim murmured.

“Nim, it is mid-morning.” She chuckled reaching forward to stop Nim from standing.

Nim smacked her hand away, “Then I am going for a walk.” She snapped and then fled from the tent.

Nim did not return.

***

 _Rise Nim_.

Toron nudged at her and Nim shifted sitting up easily. She did not recall when she had fallen asleep, nor when Toron had stopped. She stretched her arms far over her head and then rolled her shoulders before she got to her feet to urge warmth into her legs as well. Toron remains close nibbling at the frost covered grass with a great deal of glee.

“Where have we gone Toron?” Nim asked pulling open one of the bags attached to his side before retrieving a small worn leather bound journal. She flicked open the pages her fingers tracing over the parchment for a moment before she flicked to the last page. A small map was sketched across the last two pages.

“Which way did we go?” Nim asked and Toron lifted his head and motioned towards the southwest. Nim went back to the map and drew a quill and ink from the pack as well. With two angry swipes she crossed out the name Gundabad. “South west.” She murmured dropping the quill and tracing her finger down the map. She glanced up eyeing the swell of hills down the way a bit, “Just off the North Downs then. You traveled quite the way Toron.” Nim mused clipping the book shut.

That little book was all Nim had kept from her time with her. She had quickly sold off all her fancy clothing for cheaper and stronger fabrics as well as other things. At the time she had wanted nothing to remind her of that time and had sold it all for most likely half of what it was worth. All that is, except for the journal. The one thing she had given Nim as a friend and not out of need. She had kept it, the one promise to once again find her companion.

_I ran for a great portion of the night. I would have stopped at the mountain back on my path but it stank of orc so I continued on. It is mid-morning now._

The stag returned to his meal and Nim watched him for a time. When the sun reached its peak she went about gathering supplies for a fire. They would need to rest here for a day or so while Toron regained his strength and then they will most likely need to head for a village or town to wait for the snow to pass. There would not be time to explore, she noted with disappointment. She wanted to wonder about the hills and see if any of the Dunedain or there things remained there. It would simply have to wait it seemed. She fell back into the crisp grass and breathed in the fresh air.

_What are you thinking of?_

“The Dunedine.” Nim said wistfully, “Do you think there are any left?”

_The impossible is always possible, just look at me._

The stag lifted his head grandly and stared down at her. He trotted about the clearing his silvery white fur glistening in the sun. He was taller than any stag, taller than any horse, taller than anything ever really seen on four legs. Last she had measured he was over 7 feet tall from his hooves to the tips of his ears and that did not take into account his antlers. They alone rose several more feet, Nim had not measured them for some time though.

“You are rather impossible my old friend.” Nim chuckled as he snorted at her, “Get any taller and you will become a tree.” She sat up and watched him move about to a bush to strip the few remaining leaves from the branches. Toron paused after a moment and lifted his head to look at her.

_What is it you think now? Your mind has become so clouded._

Toron crossed the small expanse to Nim and bowed his head. She closed her eyes as his hot breath washed over her face and ruffled her hair. She opened them again as the stag sat before her still keeping his head low so that he could look her in the eyes.

 _I do not like how you hide from me_.

“I have become lost.” Nim said quietly, she dug into her pocket and pulled free the little gem, “I . . . I should have stayed with her. I fled like a coward and now look what has become of. . . “She clenched her hand around the jewel and coiled around it as if it needed her whole body to remain protected. How long had it even been since she had laid eyes on her old friend? Nim never really kept track but it was easily over 500 years.

“I said I would return, I had promised . . .”she gritted out, “She gave me a reason to live and now look at me.” Nim felt her eyes sting with tears and she pressed her fists into them, “Running from everything. . . “

 _Enough!_ Toron declared raising his head to look down upon her. _I will not allow you to blame yourself for her death. She knew what risks battle held, she knew that her life may very well end. You can morn her my Little one but I will not let you take her blame._

“What should I do then?” She asked

 _We shall travel, near or far. We have no rulers but ourselves, this land is ours and no one else’s._ He declared. _We are the king and queen of every bit of earth we touch._

Nim couldn’t help her laugh. “You may be the king of kings but I am no queen.” Nim said getting to her feet, “More like some little squirrel who thinks you really are a tree.” She climbed onto his back as he laughed himself and stood.

 _The king of kings, and his Little one. I like it._ Toron declared circling the bush as he spoke. _That is what we shall be from now on._

“Let us start in the morning.” Nim said patting his neck, “You need to rest.”

 _Nonsense! The king of kings rests for nothing but the command of the creator themselves_. He paused tilting his head as if listening. _I heard no protest._

Toron reared back forcing Nim to cling onto him. He kicked his hooves wildly into the air and let out a deep bellow that hummed against Nim’s legs. Nim let out an elated cry throwing her hands up to grasp at his antlers to keep herself in place. When he charged through the grass she stood upon his back too look over the sea of dying yellow. A king and his little one, Nim could live like that.

Toron was the one to save her.

Then

Now

And every day after.


	2. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well Miss, A long while back there came this elf here on the back of this big old stag. She came about with white hair and a young face and a bag full of money that she practically handed out to anyone who asked. Now, mind you, this was a long long time ago before I or even my great grandparents were around. This place was no more than a few houses and an inn. People back then it was some sort of good omen, that elf and her stag. It was them that allowed our town to prosper.” 
> 
> “Seems like some silly old tale.” Nim said chuckling lightly.
> 
> “Yea it does miss, but looking at you with your white hair and your young face and that stag you came up on you can’t blame people for thinking. . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo turns out that working 40 hours a week doing mostly manual labor (plus and ungodly obsession with a game called Ark: Survival evolved.) Can lead to a complete halt in any and all creative processes. Now though, school has started up once more and my work hours are cut back to 18 hours a week so once more I can write again and continue on with this story and to the sea, To the sea.  
> Thank you to all who has stayed with me! Love you!

Nim, at first, was not sure how to act as if there were none above her. How could she, a young homeless elf, hold any power over a king or a queen or any other being of power? She could of course, live outside the land of any ruler. There were plenty of unclaimed lands were rangers and other things lived. Nim had quickly discarded the idea, she did not was to be a hermit out in the wilderness. She wanted to see people, learn of them, meet dwarves and hobbits and any and all other beings of the earth. She just did not want to be tied down to them.

 _You must stop overthinking these things my Little one._ Toron rumbled from below her. The great stag turned his head to look upon the elf. _How did a king become a king? It happened because one person a long time ago declared themselves above the others. Be it with money or respect or what have you. We are doing the same, the first of a single line._

“But we lack money and respect to make this declaration.” Nim pointed out tugging on his ear a bit.

 _We have freedom. We are great because we are free. We should be respected because there is no one that can control us. We will travel though places that make others afraid with no fear. Walk through the halls of royalty as if they were our own!_ Toron tossed his head up proudly and cantered a bit as he walked.

“We could be arrested for such disrespect.”

 _I would like to see them try_. Toron growled dropping his playful walking to move at a trot over the thinning grass. _A town is coming up, can you see?_

Nim lifted her gaze from the stag and to the distant town. She focused her gaze catching sight of a gated community, old but welcoming enough it seemed. Nim grabbed her journal and with practiced fingers found the map and traced the rout they had been taking.

“Bree.” She said, “We came here once before, though it was some time ago since I recall it as being no more than a few buildings and not a town.” She mused. “It’s good to see it thriving.”

 _I will leave you at the gate. Rest, wash, resupply and call to me when you are ready._ Toron said slowing his pace.

“I have plenty of supplies-“

 _Even I know that you can grow tired of riding upon my back. You have seen few faces like your own for several month. Be merry._ Toron looked at her once more a light of amusement in his gaze. As if to emphasis is point be began to buck slightly his back legs kicking off the ground just enough to jossle his rider.

“Fine fine fine.” Nim laughed grabbing onto one of his antlers for stability before the stag stopped before the wooden gate now swung open to welcome those in the daylight. She climbed down gathering what few things she would need before making Toron lower his head so that she could look at him properly.

“Now behave yourself. I don’t want to hear about you chasing any fawns off or challenging any other stags.”

_They are insufferable simple minded things. IF they would leave me be I would do the same for them._

“You were like them once too.” She reminded him, “Just be kind.” She added tapping his nose with a finger before shooing him away. She did not need to watch him go so she turned and entered the town were already people were staring or whispering.

She found and inn and booked a room for a few nights much to the delight of the man behind the counter. She paid him with a gold coin which had him nearly slack jaw as he tried to offer change back. She simply shook her head and turned to go to her assigned room. The room was no more than a few silver coins in cost but Nim had never enjoyed the jingle of coins in her pouch and only held onto the stuff when winter was drawing near and she would need to find a place to stay. That was some time from now and Nim couldn’t quite recall what it was she had gotten the coins for or why she had had them at all. Still, it was nice to know she had made his day.

Nim bathed and scrubbed clean the few clothes she had with the soap and water she was provided. She wanted to clean the clothes on her back but that would require new ones to wear. She gathered her money and left her damp clothes to dry before leaving the inn and starting for the market place. It was obvious that her giving of the gold coin had spread because all attention seemed to fall on her as she walked the stalls, people eager to sell in hopes of being overpaid. Nim paid little mind to them as it was something she grew accustom to after so long. The world was a greedy place and even if she wanted to be generous to all she still had her own needs to fulfill first.

So, she stuck with the purchase of a single dress, pale blue with delicate stitching across the hem to create snowy vines. Dresses were not a part of Nim’s attire, she could not recall the last time she herself had owned one. One could not fight nor ride a giant stag in a dress with any form of efficiency or comfort. One needed sturdy clothes that could handle mud and rain and any other manor of filth that comes about traveling. Still she decided she was allowed to treat herself on occasion and payed the price offered without a barter.

Nim had planned to return home but paused has her eyes fell upon a small dagger most likely made for some of the small folk that came throughout this place. It was nothing fancy in the slightest, a single duel sided blade with a thick handle and a worn leather sheath. It was not new, obviously the result of a trade. Both sides of the blade were worn and had no edge to cut upon. As she examined the hilt she could tell there had once been some form of carving but that too had been worn away by the years of use.

“Could I interest you in something a bit nicer miss?” The gentleman offered, “That there was the end result of a bad trade. Guy caught me after I had had one to many pints.”

“It is very old.” Nim said testing the weight of it in her hand.

“And dull as a rock.” The man grumbled, “Took it to three different black smiths and none could bring those edges to a point. Been hoping to sell it off to some foolish sap or else melt it down for scrap metal.”

“I could be your foolish buyer.” Nim offered

“No, I don’t have the heart to do hat to such a pretty lady. Besides with the money people are saying you are caring around you will need some proper protection.” He held up a larger blade, a dagger made for those more her size. Nim only spared it a look before returning to the older blade in her hands.

“Look here, can you see the owl that what once carved into it?” She tilted the hilt so that the light caught it so and showed the last of some faded image. “Someone spent a good long time working this piece of wood before handing it over. . . Be a shame to watch it be melted.” She murmured.

“Miss?” The man questioned.

“Old things are not broken, they are just wiser and harder to make reveal their secrets.” She said fishing into her pocket for the a few coins. “I must save my gold for when I must move on, but will this work as payment.” Instead of a coin she pulled out a small jewel, nearly transparent and blue.

“Is that real?” He gasped taking it from her hands and quickly looking over it.

“I believe so. I got it back when I was around the iron hills for the winter.”

The man grinned at his new prize but them frowned and gave her a suspicious glance, “What is someone like you doing around her handing out all this money?” He asked, “Where does one get something like this?”

“Through time.” Nim said, “I have carried that little stone with me for the past fifty years. I know they have great value to you but they are little more than pretty rocks in my eyes. I have no urge to learn their values either.” She smiled a bit slipping the blade into her pocket, “Thank you.” She added turning away.

“Wait! Miss?” He called and Nim turned around. “There has been a great bit of talk ‘bout you.” He said, “And I’m not saying that all you elves look alike but people ‘round here, including myself, we don’t see elves that much. So, we can’t help but wonder. . . “He trailed off sheepishly.

“Yes, go on.” Nim urged a new smile touching the edges of her lips.

“Well Miss, A long while back there came this elf here on the back of this big old stag. She came about with white hair and a young face and a bag full of money that she practically handed out to anyone who asked. Now, mind you, this was a long long time ago before I or even my great grandparents were around. This place was no more than a few houses and an inn. People back then it was some sort of good omen, that elf and her stag. It was them that allowed our town to prosper.”

“Seems like some silly old tale.” Nim said chuckling lightly.

“Yea it does miss, but looking at you with your white hair and your young face and that stag you came up on you can’t blame people for thinking. . .”   He trailed off, “My great great grandmother said the elf stayed with her for a few nights. Gave her this.” He drew out a chain from around his neck that ended in a delicate little ruby. “Told her endless stories about her life and then those stories were passed down and . . . well listen to me.” He chuckled shaking his head as if he was foolish.

“Mable was a wonderful little girl.” Nim murmured eyeing the ruby, “A sweet thing opening her home to me when the inn was full. Held me and Toron through the winter.” The man stared up at her in amazement seeming surprised that his assumption was correct. “I had always ment to go back to see her . . . Visit the farm and all that. Time moves differently for me though, I’m sorry I never did.”

“She never hated you for it. She always said you were a traveler, never stayed still. I think she understood that you would not come back.”

“Does not make the fact that I did not any better.” Nim sighed looking down at her hands, “I enjoyed the work of the farm. Is it still in your family?”

“Yes! Yes it is. Passed down into my hands from my family. I my wife and our three kids live there now with a handful of farm creatures. You must come see it, meet my family. My kids would love to see the real elf behind the stories.” He suddenly became excited gathering things from the table and tucking them away. “I will head to market now, gather things for a feast and-“

“No.” Nim said and he paused, “I will not eat dinner with you tonight.” When he frowned she grinned, “I do not want to inconvenience your family. Your wife will most likely be making something now at this point and I do not want her to waste it or ration it for my sake. If you wish for me to dine and tell tales I will be glad to come tomorrow.”

“Will you be here that long?” He asked.

“Yes, I planned on staying the week. Rest and mend my clothes as well as resupply. I can add another day to entertain your children.” She mused.

“Alright. Tomorrow then. Do you recall where the farm is?” He asked.

“Yes, I never forget a place.” She bowed her head slightly, “Until then . . . “

“Samuel.” He said quickly, “And you are Nimineth correct?”

“It’s just Nim now, but yes.” She smiled again and stepped back, “It is lovely to meet you, Sam. I will see you tomorrow.”

Nim wondered to a few more stalls pondering whether or not to buy her trousers or mend the ones she already owned. People all around her still offered goods but it was with less conviction now as they realized their words had no sway in how giving she would be. Though she did end up buying an extra thing or two as well as a new pair of trousers and some fabric to fix the old.

Nim returned to the inn just as rain began to splatter down from the greying sky.

Nim mended her pants and washed her finale outfit, making sure not to soil her new dress. She wanted to wear it tomorrow to Samuel’s home. She never felt the need to dress nice for anyone, she did not live a life that allowed things like fancy clothes and dinner wear. She wore sturdy clothes of sturdy fabric.

*****

The last time she had worn a dress . . . It must have been when she had met Mable. Her mother had crafted a dress for her to wear during the nice family meals. Not that Nim ever really wore it, most of the time she and Mable had played in the barn. Almost always her mother had to pick hay out of both of their hair all while grumbling and growling.

Nim remember when she had first come across Mable and her family. The inns had been full and she and Toron were working towards another town that would hopefully have room for her and the stag. They had begun to cut through the land off the road as a short cut. They didn’t get far before a small form was rushing through the snow at them dressed in simple blue clothes. Toron stopped short and lowered his head until Toron was nose to nose with the little girl.

“What you do’in in our fields?” she demanded stepping back to look up at Nim. “You gunna catch a cold out ‘er.” She looked at Toron again and after a moment of thought dug a little hand into her pocket and drew out a fist full of oats and held them out to the massive creature.

“I’m sorry. We don’t mean to trespass. We are going to the next town to find shelter for the winter.”

“Ther’ a blizzard comin’” The little girl said shoving her hand back into her pocket when Toron did not eat the offered grains. “Towns too far, you’ll get caught in it.” She removed her hand again and this time stroked the bridge of Toron’s nose. “You can stay here.”

“What would your parents say?” Nim asked

“So long as you help ‘bout they won’t mind.” She said after a long moment of thought. “You the lucky elf who came to town yea?”

“People seem to think that yes. I am simply an ordinary elf though.” Nim said tilting her head to get a proper view of the wild nest or red curls and highly freckled face. Nim saw a fierceness to her that hid well behind her large innocent eyes. Nim decided she liked her.

“Come on.” She turned away as if Nim and Toron were taking precious time out of her very busy day. “let’s get ya’ to the house. Mama will get you some’tin warm.” She trudged through the snow leaving a little trail that was quickly wiped away by Toron’s massive one.

Nim did not dare offer a ride to the little girl feeling that she would be insulted that she, a small child, would need the assistance of a grown up. This little girl could survive on her own in the wilds and secrets of Fangorn forest if need be. Both with brute force and an ability to charm anything around her with her harsh accent. Nim and even Toron seemed to have fallen under the little creatures sway.

“What is your name?” Nim asked hanging from Toron’s antlers.

“Mable.” She said though to Nim’s ears it sounded more like Mawbell.

“Well Mable, I am nimineth and this is my companion Toron.”

She waited for Toron to introduce himself but the stag remained silent. Sometimes he would fall silent like this. Nim could do little to make him speak so she let him be. Maybe he would reveal himself fully to the little girl later or maybe he would not.

He never did.

*******

“Miss. . . Miss?”

Nim lifted her head blinking as she came from the memories, the feeling of the chilled air still fresh on her skin. The little voice came again and her eyes went to the doorway were a little girl stood peeking in just enough for Nim to see a wild mess of brown hair, a green eye, and a splattering of freckles across a single cheek. She looked stunned or fearful.

“Yes, sorry. I was . . . remembering.” She set the finished pants down and motioned the little thing in. “Come now, no need to be frightened.” She urged when she remained still.

Hesitantly the girl slipped into the room hardly opening the door and leaving it cracked when she was fully within the confines of the space. Her eyes darted about the room taking in the drying clothes both mended and not, the bed and desk already cluttered with bags and supplies waiting to be organized and placed, and then finally to Nim where her eyes seemed to open even wider.

“Pa told me to tell you it’s time for dinner.” She squeaked.

“Thank you,” Nim’s eyes went to the hem of the little girl’s dress were there was a little hole in the aged fabric. “Would you like me to mend that?” She asked.

The little girl’s hands flew to the hole and squeaked the bits of fabric together looking shameful at the rip. She mumbled something about a seamstress at the end of the week and mumblings of new clothes while she scooted back so that her back was pressed to the wall.

“A seamstress costs money, I will do it for free. Come here.” It was only a suggestion but the girl jumped to obey, walking swiftly up to the elf. She was quick to clasp her hands behind her back to hide their shaking.

“You don’t need to fear little one.” Nim said pulling the thread from her pants and quickly working it into the fabric of the dress. “What frightens you so?” She asked when the girl continued to remain mute.

“Never met and an elf before.” She whispered, “The boys down the street say you can do all sorts of scary things.”

“These boys do not seem kind.” Nim lifted her gaze from her work to watch the girl nod, “Well, I can do scary things but that does not mean I will. You shouldn’t listen to such mean people.”

“They scare me too.” She murmured.

“Well you tell them this then. You tell them that you made friends with the big scary elf and that the big scary elf can do scary things if they are mean to you.”

“Will you?” she asked in awe now, “Like like turn them into toads.”

Nim laughed snipping the thread from the girl’s dress and straitening it. “No, I don’t do scary things but those words enough should make them be kinder to you.” She stood up and took the little girl’s hand, “Will you escort me to dinner?” Nim asked and the little thing grinned brightly and nodded.

Nim followed after the eager thing who nearly dragged her out the door and down the stairs. The little thing lead Nim through the crowd and to a booth towards the back. Nim sat and allowed the little thing to race about and get her a drink and a plate of food and even for a while she sat there and shared the meal with Nim. Though too soon she was called away by her father and was lost to the crowds.

Nim was alone, again.

She wonders if the little thing will remember her.

Nim was not alone long though, like a moth to a flame another joins her at her table. He does not introduce himself, only removes his hat and orders a plate for himself. It was only after it arrived that he finally took in Nim and she Him.

“You are a difficult elf to Find.” He said, “You are seen everywhere and nowhere at the same time.”

“I make a point of it.” Nim said simply, “Why is it you wished to find me?”

“Forgive me, let me introduce myself, I am-“

“Gandalf.” Nim cut in, “I know who you are, and you are a figure who is hard to miss.”

“Ah, yes.” Gandalf lifted a bit of bread but did not eat it, “That saves me a great deal of talk then. I will cut to the point. You have been running for a long time.”

“Running would imply that I am fleeing from something.” Nim said grabbing a carrot and biting into it, it tasted slightly rotten.

“Aren’t you?” Gandalf asked quietly.

“Who do you think you are?” Nim demanded, “You know nothing about me.”

“Oh I know a great deal about you, more than even you recall.” He said lightly, “Nimineth Tarthiel.”

Nim jerked at the surname, one she had not used for some time, she went by a million names but that one she had kept close and secret and none should of known about beyond herself and Toron. She glared at the wizard her hand slipping from the table to rest on the small dulled dagger she had left in her pocket. With enough force any blade could be dangerous

“Why are you here?” She snapped, “How did you know that name?”

“I know a great deal,” he repeated, “and I know that there are people who look for you, good people. Those that can help you. You no longer have to be on your own, you can go ho-“

“I have had enough of this conversation.” Nim said swiftly, “I need no one’s help, I am healthy and strong and more than capable of caring for myself. I do not need you or anyone.”

Gandalf sighed shaking his head, “What would Callon think of this?” He asked sadly.

Nim started again this time shoving herself back violently enough to knock over her chair and send it skidding across the floor. Her heart felt ready to burst from her chest like the wizard help a blade to her neck and was pressing down hard. She stumbled back quickly shoving aside a man who was asking if she was alright. Gandalf remained sitting watching her with pity as she fled from the inn and out into the rain.

She was soaked threw within minutes but refused to return to the inn, refused to still and find a place to dry. She needed to walk, needed to move, needed to get away. She began to run darting over the mud and feeling it splash up onto her legs ruining her dress and making her feet heavy. She made it as far as the main gates before she was stopped once more.

 _Little one! What has happen?_  Toron leapt over the great wall as if it were nothing and looking over the soaked elf trying to find the source of her panic.

“We must leave, now.”

_Little one?_

“Now Toron.” Nim ordered grabbing onto his antlers and pulling herself onto his back. She tugged at his mighty crown urging him towards the gate but he remained still.

_We need your things, your supplies. Do you even have your money?_

“No! no it does not matter we just need to leave, now Toron, I can get more it does not matter. I need to leave Toron I need to. . . “

Nim fell silent as the stag quickly turned and leapt back over the gate and moved out into the night. Nim pressed her face into the wet fur on the back of his neck and breathed deeply. The smell of rain and forest, trees, grass, soil grounded her and slowed her racing heart. When she was calmed Toron stopped.

_You need a place to rest. You need supplies. This rain will turn to sleet soon enough and not even you can withstand cold forever._

Nim lifted her head from his neck and rubbed the rain from her eyes and brushed the hair plastered to her face away. “Mable.” She mumbled, “Mable would never turn us down.”

Toron turned at once and Nim had to grasp onto his crown to remain seated as he galloped through the dark as if it were as bright as day. It took only minutes for Toron to slow next to a small house and for Nim to slide off both there and not. She knocked on the door and was waiting for a light to show those within the home were awake when her mind finally settled and she realized where she was fully.

“Mable is dead.” Nim murmured stepped away.

 _Yes but the house is not empty._ Toron said motioning to were a flame now flicked at the glass near the door. A moment later the door opened a bit revealing a small child that looked so much like the little girl Nim knew that she felt ready to weep. It was not Mable though, her eyes were wrong. They lacked the fire and life that that little girl had. Nim stepped back a bit uncertain of the house she had come to.

“Pa? There is an elf at the door!” She called fleeing from view and leaving the door wide open.

“Come Toron.” Nim murmured touching the stag’s side, “I will be alright for one night.” She urged moving farther into the shadows. She needed to move, needed to run, needed to-

“Nimineth?” Samuel’s voice cut through the rain as he peered out into the rain. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Nothing. . . Sorry. I did not mean to disturb you.” Nim smiled faintly turning to face him but continuing her path backwards.

“No no, you aren’t remaining another moment out in this downpour. Come in come in.” He stepped out into the rain and Nim reluctantly followed him towards the house, “Your stag can go into the barn if he likes, its warm and dry.”

Toron looked at Nim for a long moment before nodding once and starting off around the house. Nim was ushered inside and wrapped in a blanket and set before the fire. Samuel’s wife appeared a bit later with an armful of clothes that Nim changed into. When she was dried and warmed she was given a bowl of soup and a hot mug of tea just to make sure.

“Can I ask why you left town?” Samuel asked after he had usher the little girl and her two brothers to their room for bed.

“I cannot go back. “ Nim said simply running her thumb around the rim of the glass. Her heart stuttered a bit at the flash of the elderly wizard and his words. Nim closed her eyes and forced it away, focusing on Mable instead. It was always easier to recall memories when you were in the place that they were made.

“What of your things?” Samuel pressed

“I can get more.”

“Nonsense, I can gather them for you when I go to town for work.” He said waving his hand at her when she tried to protest. “No I insist.”

“Why are you so kind, you do not know me?”

“Mable spoke some of your night terrors.” Nim stiffened turning her gaze to the flames, “Never much into detail but she said you had them often, both when you were awake and asleep. That’s what happened tonight is it not?”

Nim bowed her head taking her time to choose her words carefully, “You are very wise Samuel Smith.” She smiled a bit sadly and stood retiring to the room she had been given by the family.

“I will see you at breakfast.” Samuel called as her door clicked shut.

Nim was gone before the sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Like it? Leave kudos or even better a comment!


	3. Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves live far longer than mortals. Toron said quietly as she closed the journal and put everything away. There is a chance we may come upon them again. He shifted and laid his head upon her lap to give her a bit more warmth.
> 
> “The dwarves we knew before are gone.” Nim said

_The ground is solid here, it would be a good place to rest for the night._ Toron slowed sniffing at the ground and testing it with his hooves.

“You have said this about the last three places we have slowed, you and I both know there are better camp grounds toward that other peek. Simply admit that you want to eat the berry bushes we saw down the hill and we will camp here.”

_The fact of the bushes existence has no pull in my opinions of camping grounds for the evening. I simply figured that setting up camp now would be far better than going over to that desolate barren hills side and having to live another evening off that awful bread._

Nim slid from the stag’s back and unhooked the saddle bags letting them fall to his sides. “Go, be gone with you. Go eat your fill and bring back some fire wood. I’ll set up camp.” She chuckled pushing at the stag’s side.

 _I will go and collect fire wood, I am not hungry._ He said stubbornly stepping back and following his own tracks back towards the bushes.

Nim made a point to keep her back to him and allow him to believe, if only for a moment, that he was being clever. She focused then on the bags piling them up near a flat spot and clearing away the grass and other things to make a pit for the fire. The work was not hard and before long Nim found herself searching for little things to make the area a bit more comfortable. A log to sit upon, a blanket held aloft by a few long branches, a mass of shrubbery to make the ground a bit softer for her to lay upon. Little things like that to make the open ground around her more welcoming and protecting.

 _Look at what I have found Little one._ Toron said triumphantly caring a large branch laden with blue berries. He set the branch down as if it was the most precious thing he had seen. _What luck to have found such a ripe bush, no?_ He mused dropping the rest of the fire wood that had tangled itself in his antlers.

Nim couldn’t help her laugh as she lifted the branch and plucked a few of the berries off. “Thank you Toron, they look delicious.”

“You do not eat enough.”

“I am an elf, I can survive on just as little as you my friend.” Nim plucked off a few more and ate them, “Do not begin to mother me now come, rest. I’ll start a fire.” She set the branch away and quickly set up the wood and grabbed for the flint in her bag. The sparks flared around the tinder and quickly attached to the wood glowing bright.

 _We will need to head for the towns within the next month. I can feel the freeze on its way._ Toron said turning his head to the sky and sniffing. He dropped his dark gaze to her before turning and carefully lowering his massive body to the ground.

“We’ll move out by the end of the week. I want to explore a bit more, then we can head for Bree or wherever.”

_End of the week Nim, I do not wish to get caught within the snow again._

Nim hummed something noncommittal and leaned back to rest against his side. His warmth and the fire wrapping around her leaving the blanket she had brought along nearly useless, as always. Toron snorted blowing more humid air at her face before curling his head around to rest it on her lap. The weight of it pressed against her legs and would have been deeply uncomfortable to any who had not experienced the presser over the past few thousand years. Now it was a comfort to Nim. The weight of his head on her legs his crown of antlers hanging around him like a protective bush of thorns.

 _One week little one_. He hummed lifting a bright eye to look upon her.

“One week.” She repeated back faintly.

**************************************************

 _Little one. Little one._ Toron’s voice was hissing in her ear as she woke.

She remained still and only allowed her eyelids to flicker signaling her wakefulness. Toron sounded slightly concerned. Toron had lifted his head from her lap and his body was tense, ready to leap to defend her at any moment.

Nim opened her eyes a bit. her eyes went to the thick bushes that clung to the landscape all over the place. Her eyes glanced from one to anther to another until her eyes fell upon the bushes clustered a few yards before her. The bushes were thick and heavy and impossible to see through. They had been disrupted, the dew that had settled over the ground and plant life had been shaken and smeared off this cluster.

 _They are dwarves. I smell the earth and soot and fire upon their clothes._ Toron murmured

“They are small, young ones.” Nim murmured back sitting up now, the bush rustled a bit. “Dwarves a short creatures but not that short.” She stared at the bushes a moment more before shifting onto her knees and began to reset the fire until it was hot and welcoming.  

She dug into the saddle bags and pulled out several strips of dried meat. Toron wrinkled his nose at the smell but Nim ignored it. She preferred plants to eat but there was little beyond the few berry bushes they had seen.

“Stop sneering and do something useful. There are still a few birds that will be nesting, find me some eggs.” Toron rumbled in his chest, an unhappy protest. “You complain I do not eat enough. What do you think I survive on when I am in the towns?”

Toron huffed but stood and walked off his head tilted up into the trees. When he was gone nim set out the single pan she owned and set the strips of meet into the pan and onto the fire. She withdrew a small jar of oil and added it to the pan and it began to sizzle. I would not be as tender as proper bacon but it would still be good.

The bush rustled again and Nim smiled. The sun had not rised long ago, they most likely had not eaten. Nim made a point to warm up several more strips of meat than she needed and let the breeze carry the scent to the bush. Toron seemed to understand her plan because he returned with a woven nest brimming with eggs. She thanked him and was careful to listen to each before breaking it open. No use killing a chick.

The pan was full then, half filled with a mismatch of eggs and the other with makeshift bacon. Not even Nim could deny that is smelt delicious and she longed to eat. She quite enjoyed half cooked eggs. Still she waited, and instead had Toron return the eggs that still had life within to their nests. She did not doubt he would get them back to the proper mothers. When he was once more out of sight she lifted her gaze one more to the bushes.

“You should come out now, the food will be ready soon.” She offered pocking at the eggs to prove her point. “You watched me cook it, and I will eat first if you want to prove it is safe.” The bush shuddered more and finally two faces peeked out.

The eldest was blond, his hair long and sneaking past his shoulders was braided and decorated with beads. The youngest hair was shorter, just past his chin, dark and messy. The blond lead holding the other’s hand and a small dagger in the other. He looked ready for a fight while the dark haired one was focused soul on the meal.

Nim let the fire die to embers before she wrapped her hands in a cloth and lifted the pan. During the night Toron had gathered water, as he often did, in a hole he had dug into the ground. How the water got within the hole, Nim could never quite figure out but Toron never felt the need to explain so she did not ask. She dipped the base of the pan in the water and closed her eyes a steam roared from around the pan as the water cooled the hot metal.

When it was cool she brought it back to the embers and set it down before motioning the boys forward. “Eat.” She offered as she grabbed at a strip of meat to eat.

The dark haired one nearly charged forward and grabbed a few strips of meat and quickly shoved them into his face before suddenly looking sheepishly at her and the other dwarf who remained still. Nim pulled at the eggs ripping off a chunk and eating it watching as the blond carefully grabbed his own strip of meat and chewed.

“Why are you on our mountain?” He asked after a few bites.

“Traveling.”

“To where?” The younger asked.

“To where ever I like.” Nim smiled a bit, “I am Nim.”

“Fili.” The blond started

“And Kili.” The younger added.

 _I am Toron._ The great stag walked up another large branch of berries clutched in his jaws. He found a spot close to the flames and lowered himself to the ground before he began to strop the branch leaves and all.

“How old are you? Like super old?” Kili asked suddenly and his bother sent him an angry look.

“Kili you just can’t-“

“I am very old.” Nim chuckled catching both boys attention. “So is Toron, but he is a few hundred years younger than myself.” She patted the stag’s side and his lifted his head from his meal to stare at her, “We have been together for as long as I can remember. Have traveled all over middle earth, and have seen things you could only dream about. The wonders that are out there the-“

“Have you seen the lonely mountain?” Fili cut in then before quickly ducking his head, “I’m sorry.”

“I have.” Nim said, “ I lived within Dale before its ruin. It was but for a short time but . . . It was beautiful. I was not there when the dragon came, and I did not learn of the devastation until long after it had happen. I had made many friends in that land and lost most to that day. I have always ment to go back, but the wind has never pulled me that way.”

“Will you tell us about it?” Kili asked picking at the last bit of eggs in the pan, Nim had not even realized they had eaten through it all, “About the mountain? Father told us some but, he’s been gone for a long time.”

“Does your mother know you are out wondering and talking to strange elves?” Nim asked and both boys ducked their heads. Nim chuckled, “go, return to your family, and ease what worry they could have. Return tomorrow and I will tell you all about the mountain.”

Kili’s eyes lit up and he beamed at her, he was missing a tooth, “really?!” He gasped, “Can we come back Fili can we can we?” He clung to the eldest’s sleeve until he sighed and nodded his head, “Yes! We’ll bring some of mother’s bread and jam for you!” Kili said jubilantly.

“Go on now! Be gone with you!” Nim laughed and both dashed off disappearing through the bushes.

 _You have not told tales in a long time, Little one._ Toron murmured watching the two dwarves go. _Not since-_

“Bree, I remember.” Nim said suddenly feeling a wash of gloom, “How long has it been since then?”

 _Roughly fifty years or so, possibly more._ Toron stated after a moment of thought.

“So Samuel and his wife are gone then. Their kids would be grown and old with kids of their own with kids of their own even.” Nim rubbed her eyes trying to figure out why she had stayed away so long, “IT was but one night, I did not even say goodbye.”

 _It is how we are, Little one. Samuel understood that and I am sure June did too. You could return to their land tonight and they would welcome you just as Samuel did._  Toron moved so that Nim could lean back against him.

“That does not make it any less painful.” Nim closed her eyes.

*********

Fili and Kili returned the next morning with the promised goods, and then the morning after that and the morning after that. Each time Nim woke to them crashing through the bushes with a basket in hand baring warm bread and sweet jams. Each time they would eat and Nim would talk and the boys would listen. For the first few days it was all of the lonely mountain and Dale but soon the boys asked more questions of other places other people. Nim answered all that she could, delighted at the way the boy’s would grin or laugh or look at one another at different parts of the story.

The boy’s became more open to her. Their places were no long across the fire but pressed to her sides and hunkered against Toron. They began to tell Nim of their own home. Of the tunnels and trouble’s that they caused. Of other dwarf children and their mother Dis. Nim enjoyed the stories as much as telling her own. Quickly the week had passed and merged into another and then another until the month had passed. The air chilled and Nim began to wake with frost instead of dew across her form.

 _Nim we must move on._ Toron rumbled from where he stood near the grass, now wilted and hardly worth eating. _Your rations are low and it will only get colder._ _I know you enjoy the young dwarves but you cannot survive on a small ration of bread each day._

“Just one more day.”

 _Little one, the snow will be here by midday, we must move on._ He urged digging away at the frosted grass, even the puddle he had made was frozen over. _It is best we leave, before morning tomorrow. If you see them again you will not wish to leave._

“You are right.” Nim sighed taking her pan from the iced fire. “I was never one for goodbyes.” Her eyes scanned over the horizon. The boys had already come and gone but now Nim could not help but search for their little forms among the frost. She wanted them to come back, give her a reason to stay one more night, just one more.

 _Little one_. Toron stood taking his warmth away from Nim.

She sighed and nodded rolling up her blanket and placing her few items into the bags. She stood and tossed the bags over Toron’s back and secured them. Her movements were slow, trying to prolong her leaving. When she was done she stomped on the icy ashes to make sure they were out and   finally climbed onto Toron’s back.

 _We can always return._ Toron said quietly.

Nim sighed as he turned away carrying her away. They did not return, not really. They came and went from place to place but the gaps between visits that the places were always new once more. People she knew then were never alive when she returned. She would not see the boy’s again, maybe their children or their grandchildren. Never them though, she rarely met the same person twice.

***

They traveled through the less of the day, which was not as long as either of them had liked. The days had grown short though, and it became too cold to travel. Nim could survive the cold for a long time but it wore on her and with rations low it was best she did not push herself. Not yet at least. So they stopped in an outcrop of trees, created a fire and curled close to one another.

Nim flipped through her journal looking at the endless names in the small bit of parchment. The little journal was nearly half way full. She was not sure what she would do when it was full. Still she pulled free her quill and ink, the latter which she had to hold of the flames a bit to thaw the ink within the little glass bottle. Carefully she dipped the quill in the ink and wrote Fili and Kili’s names at the end of her list and blew on them to dry it.

 _Dwarves live far longer than mortals._ Toron said quietly as she closed the journal and put everything away. _There is a chance we may come upon them again._ He shifted and laid his head upon her lap to give her a bit more warmth.

“The dwarves we knew before are gone.” Nim said

 _Their loss was due to a tragedy, not time. They are safe, far from such darkness. The land is prosperous here and well protected. They could live long long lives. They could be very aged but we could come upon them again. You must not lose hope._ Toron tilted his head to look upon her. _You despair too much._ He mumbled

“I know.” Nim sighed again and pet his head, finding comfort in the rough and thick texture of his coat. Nim leaned back but did not sleep, she did not sleep for a long time.

*******

Nim woke with a jolt. Toron lifted his head as she shoved herself up and darted forward. Snow fell off her body as she moved forward. Toron followed after her shaking his own snow from his body. Nim motioned for him to still and her flicked his ears forward.

 _A voice. . ._  He murmured taking another step forward, _Can you tell when they say?_ Toron asked.

Nim tilted her head straining even her own elven ears to listen to the voice on the wind. It was this faint noise that had woken her, this faint noise nearly drowned out by the breeze, the faint noise that was calling her name. It came again and Nim jolted once more.

Fili, it was Fili who was calling her name. He sounded frightened.

Nim grabbed for Toron’s antlers and was tossed onto his back. She pressed her hand to his neck and he charged off towards where Nim had heard the small boy’s calls. She stood upon his back peering over the snow that had fallen looking for any hint of the gold among the blanket of snow. Toron’s body nearly steamed as he moved. His coat became damp as the remaining snow melted on his body. Nim longed to lay across him to soak up the warmth and thaw her numbed fingers.

“Nim!”

Fili’s voice suddenly echoed out loudly around her and Toron skidded to a stop sending snow flying up around them. Nim peered around and nearly cried out in relief as a goat appeared over the crest of a hill and dived down sending up its own shower of snow as it slid to a stop beside them. Upon the creature’s back was Fili, wide eyed and flushed face.

“What is going on?” Nim asked

“Kili’s missing!” Fili blurted out, “W-we came back yesterday evening to bring you dinner and you weren’t there. I told Kili that we would look for you in the morning but he was worried, said you wouldn’t go without saying goodbye. He must have snuck out before morning to look for you. Mother was able to follow the goat tracks for a while but it must have snowed more and they were covered. He-“

Nim touched his shoulder urging him to calm. The small boy inhaled and let out a shaky breath. Nim let him breath for a moment before she spoke, “Does your mother know you have come to look for me?” Fili dropped his gaze, “Fili, does your mother know you are here?” Nim said a bit sharper and squeased his shoulder.

“No.” He mumbled glaring furiously down at the back of the goat’s head.

“Then you must return to her.” Nim stepped away and managed to make a step before the boy protested.

“No! I want to help! I’m the one who made him wait. He’s my brother he-“

“And as far as your mother knows you have gone missing.” Nim spoke over him, “When she realizes you are gone do you think she will not search for you? That she will focus fully on Kili? You come with me and that means there are less to look for Kili.”

“I want to help.” Fili said quietly his voice becoming watery.

“Then return home, comfort your mother. Do not make your people search for one who is not lost. We will look for your brother, and we will bring him home. We will go to your gates by the end of the day.”

“With Kili?” Fili prompted

“Unless your family finds him first, yes.” Nim touched the top of his head and urged him to one more to be calm and find strength. “Now go.” Nim said.

Fili looked ready to protest once more but then fell silent and nodded. He tugged at the reigns of his steed and the creature darted off leaping over rocks and snow and gone within a flash. Nim climbed back onto Toron and looked around.

“Did the goat say anything?”

 _It was difficult, he knew few words and he could not tell what was important or not. Another was taken during the long dark._ Nim saw flashes of images as Toron spoke. A barn, other rams, the blare of light as someone opened the door, the sweet and warm scent of hay. _They left quickly and they left alone, he stated that many did not go out alone._

“Do you think you could track the rams sent?” Nim asked shifting to sit more firmly on Toron’s back.

_I am not a dog, but it was pungent enough. So long as the snow does not melt too much and wash it away I may be able to follow it well enough._

Nim urged him forward and the stag bounded off charging towards their original campsite. Nim closed her eyes and pressed her face into Toron’s neck. She was frightened, for Kili, if he was harmed it would be her fault. If he died it would be her fault. The image of his motionless body flashed through her mind and she wince.

 _Enough of that!_ Toron snapped jerking to a stop over the trampled ashes of their old fire. _Such thought will do nothing to help him. You are a Queen and should not be threatened by such things. IF you will him not dead then he will be._ Toron’s voice rang with command and the air seemed to shake with the power of it. _Take heart little one, I have seen into the little dwarf, he is strong, brave, even so small he will not go down without a fight._

“There are things far bigger in these mountains than the cold. Things not even bravery can save him from.” Nim replied grimly.

 _Then let us find him before that happens_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! please let me know what you think by leaving a comment or a kudo. I love reading anything and everything you all post.


	4. Dis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He died recently.” Nim ran her hands over his side feeling the heat being drained into the snow around the poor creature. She moved up to the creature’s face and stroked it’s cheek. “Cruelty beyond even their means.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! I want to thank all the wonderful people who left Kudos and comments. I love hearing everyone's feedback and ideas it is so inspiring for writing and what not.

_I smell blood._ Toron slowed as they crested another hill. They had traveled far from their original camp site. At first Nim had been impressed with the young dwarf’s determination, then she quickly began to fear as they moved deeper and deeper into unclaimed land.

 _And Decay. . ._ Toron snorted shaking the foul stench from his nose.

“A killed animal perhaps?” Nim spoke sniffing hesitantly at the air.

 _The ground is too cold for decay to happen._ Toron started forward a bit slower then. _The blood is too fresh too._

“Orc then?” Nim asked standing up to peer over the snow covered plains, “Goblin seems more likely, The elvish lands are close enough to ward any of the foul land walkers away.” Nim felt her fear ratchet up several more levels as she imagined Kili running into the little dwarf. Goblins were not massive beasts but they were far far larger than a little dwarvish child.

 _It could be a hunt from them, something they captured before receding back into their caves._ Toron said diving from the hill and sliding down the side. He bounded off again his nostrils flared as he chased the smell of blood.

“Easy now, we don’t want to pass anything.” Nim said quietly her eyes darting over the ground. She needed anything, a foot mark a missing sock, anything. She cursed the snow as they passed nothing but more endless white. For all she knew they were going the wrong direction. Her fears piled over and over until she was forced to physically shake herself to send them away.

 _Little one_. . . Toron was breathless suddenly and Nim’s eyes flew over the landscape until it spotted a splash of red over the snow. It was small, but so vibrant that Nim nearly had to look away. She felt her heart stutter. Goblins were messy, but not reckless. They were at least wise enough to cover their tracks.

“Quickly Toron.” Nim breathed.

The stag bounded the last few yards to the flair of red. Nim let out a breath as her eyes fell upon a lone ram, throat slit. She slid from Toron and walked up to the creature carefully circling it. She grabbed one of the ram’s horns and lifted it’s head. She examined the wound grimacing and the cruelty of the blow. Deep enough to guarantee death but shallow enough to make the death long and agonizing. Nim dropped its head and touched its flank.

“He died recently.” Nim ran her hands over his side feeling the heat being drained into the snow around the poor creature. She moved up to the creature’s face and stroked it’s cheek. “Cruelty beyond even their means.”

 _Little one_. . . Toron said warningly but already Nim had gone silent, her hand still upon the creature’s muzzles.

She jerked suddenly letting out a strangled cry and falling back into the snow. Toron lunged forward and hooked an antler into her cloak and dragged her away from the dead creature. Nim flailed a bit trying to free herself from Toron before he dropped her within a larger drift of snow that covered her.

 _You are foolish little one!_ Toron snapped when he raised his head. _You know what that does to you!_

“He shouldn’t of had to died alone like that. His last feelings should have been one of peace.” She gasped sitting up and shaking snow from her hair. “There was enough left to learn something, if only a faint idea.” She lifted her hand out to him and Toron lowered his head so she could grasp his crown and pulled her up.

 _What did you learn?_ Toron asked though he could already sense the flashes of images from the last bits of the ram’s life.

“They took Kili, they seemed to understand who he was. The ram tried to protect him but the creatures were cruel. They liked to watch him suffer. When he could no longer stand they left him and stole the boy. They want something out of him.”

 _What could he give to them?_ Toron demanded as she pulled herself onto his back.

“I’m not sure, but we are not going to let it happen. Can you follow their stench? It was all over the ram.”

Toron lifted his nose and breathed before snorting and shaking his head in disgust. _Easily_. He growled and charged forward.

****

The cave entrance itself was not hard to find. The creatures had not bothered to hide it or the stench that oozed out of it. This was not a colony, Nim decided, but a small group trying to create a colony. They were far enough out of the bounderies of the dwarven lands that it was no surprise that they had not realized their infestation.

 _You should not go in there alone._ Toron rumbled as he ducked low to stare into the dark void.

“What choice do I have? Shall we run back to the dwarves and tell them? Would they believe us? If anything they would capture us as kidnappers of the boy.” Nim went to Toron’s side and began untying strings from his sides. “I would let you follow but these are goblin holes not dwarf ones. Their paths will be small and slick and not made for creatures like you.”

She tugged free a long wrapping of cloth and carefully unraveled it. Nim did not like to fight, did not enjoy bloodshed in any form. Though, that did not mean she was one to be unprepared. Nim knew combat, knew how to fight. She had made a point over her many years to learn any sort of fighting style be it man elf or other.

 _It has been some time since I have laid eyes upon your swords_. Toron said as she pulled the duel blades from the wrappings and tested the weights of them in her hands. She preferred a bow to any other weapon but her duel blades came in a close second. She liked the challenge of having to keep control of both swords while dealing with an enemy on top of it.

“They are still sharp.” Nim murmured tracing the edge of her arm with the edge of the blade.

 _Remember yourself Little one, that is no longer your life._ Toron murmured and Nim quickly twisted the blades and hooked the effortlessly into her belt. If to be cautious she strung her bow and tucked her quiver around her shoulder.

“Wait here for me. If I am not out within the hour find someone to help Kili.”   She patted his snout and slipped into the darkness.

****

Nim was forced to keep her swords away. The paths were low and slick with some foul substance. She had to press her hands against her wall to keep herself upright as she worked her way down the ever sloping path. She was left in the darkness until she reached the first branching of paths. A single torch lit the small opening of the cave to display two different tunnels. Nim pressed her lips into a thin line as she stared down at the branching paths.

She wanted to shout for Kili but kept her mouth shut. It may not have been a colony but that did not mean their numbers were few. She glared at the tunnels for a moment more before charging forward and going down the left tunnel. She was swallowed again into darkness but at least Nim was able to draw a single blade as the ground became flatter and rougher.

Nim was forced to choose again and again as she worked down into the tunnels. These creatures were careful, creating multiple routs that lead here and there and nowhere all at once. Nim had to double back again and again as she worked her way through the silence and dark.

She no longer felt afraid though. With the blade in hand she felt her mind settle into a calmness that was both foreign and as close as a friend. Kili was down here and she would find him and she would kill every last creature that threatened his life. IT was a scary thought, her willingness to kill without question. Nim did not like death, did not like fighting.

Now all she wanted to do was feel her blade cut through something.

She did not need to wait long to fulfill the need.

****

The first scraping of claws that Nim picked up sent her stopping in her place. It grew closer and closer until Nim was able to charge the thing and slam it to the ground. The Goblin snarled and clawed at her arms but quickly stopped as she pressed the blade to his throat.

“Where is the dwarf?” Nim demanded.

“What does a elf want with a dwarf?” The thing spat and Nim pressed the blade harder into his throat. He coughed and choked as the first beads of blood welled up on his flesh. Nim drew it back and he sucked in the rotten air, “Elves don’t like to kill. Elves have mercy.” He wheezed.

“I am not like the elves you know.” Nim snarled and pressed the blade down again, “Where is the dwarf?”

“Deeeeep deep.” He gasped clawing at her arms again, “Show you show you.” He gasped

“Show me and you live.” Nim said and quickly drew away from the creature.

The hunched creature got to his feet and rubbed his neck growling as he looked at his black blood that coated his fingers. His eyes went to Nim and she was given only a moment to react as the creature suddenly darted down one of the tunnels.

Nim charged after the creature sheathing her blade and drawing her bow. The tunnel grew wide and larger the deeper they went. Nim waited for the tunnel to straighten out before she slid to a stop and let her arrow fly. The creature let out a gargled cry as the arrow struck him through the neck. He stumbled a few steps more before falling to the stone. She approached carefully making sure the creature was indeed dead. She yanked the arrow from its neck. The air was still foul but felt cooler here, the creature had been fleeing towards the very place she needed to go.   Perhaps he had hoped he could sound an alarm before she could do anything.

“Foolish creature.” She murmured stepping around it.

A cry echoed from deeper within the tunnel one that was quickly followed by a myriad of laughter, cruel and unforgiving. Nim slipped towards the noise, stopping short of the glow of the flame-light. The laughter came from a small group of goblins tossing about a small form as it cried out and struggled to protect itself. The small thing managed to kick one of the goblins and he was dropped to the floor. At once he had drawn a blade and was slicing at the air before him.

“Back you beasts!” Kili cried bringing the little blade down on the hand of a Goblin creating a shallow cut on the creatures hand.

It squeaked and yanked his hand back as another yanked the blade from his hand and a final slapped Kili back. The wounded goblin charged forward and grabbed Kili’s leg and shook his like a doll. Kili began to cry out once more and the goblins laughed.

“Squeal you little rat, squeal!” The goblin whom held him ordered. Kili quickly sealed his lips in defiance blinking furiously to clear away the tears from his eyes. “Do as you are told!” The Goblin ordered and then squeezed.  

There was a tiny crack and Kili screamed.

Nim jumped from the shadows and let free the arrow she had prepared. It struck the creature who held Kili in the eye killing him instantly. Nim had let another lose before she was forced to drop her bow and draw her blades. The Goblins swarmed her darting away from her blade as she lunged at them. The screeched and clawed at her limbs though their grips began to slacken as she became splattered with their blood. Nim slashed and hacked at the creatures until she alone remained among their pathetic bodies.

“Do you dare challenge me?” Nim demanded at the gleaming eyes that appeared in the shadows. They could swarm her easily, kill her even, yet none moved. She met several of the creature’s gaze, “Allow my passage and you live.” Nim called, “Deny it and I will cut every last creature down who tries to stop me.” She warned holding her blades out to show how they dripped with their blood. The hissed and chittered daring one another to go out but none moving to do so.

“Ego! (Be gone!)” Nim shouted her voice echoing off the walls. The creatures screeched and scrambled and at once the eyes were gone, Nim was alone. She turned to Kili who had curled himself against the stone wall and wept.

“Kili?” Nim murmured stepping forward. “Kili, it is okay.” She murmured crouched down just shy from his frightened form. “Av- osto.” She whispered reaching out, He flinched. Nim’s gaze went to her hand and she stared at her blood coated fingers.

“G-go away.” He whimpered.

“Hush not Kili, I will not hurt you.” She murmured bringing her hands away she grabbed at her cloak and pulled it free and began to rub away the black blood. “Look, no more blood. It is alright.” She whispered holding out her hands once more.

Kili peeked out and stared at her hands before he lifted his gaze to her face. His eyes welled over once more and he reached out to Nim. She scooped him up and held him close. She hushed his sobbing and got to her feet. She had sent the creatures away for the moment but they would returned, they always did.

“You didn’t look like you.” Kili whispered as she carried him through the tunnels chasing the faint sent of the winter air. “You were you but not. . .”

“Hush now.” Nim murmured, “You need fresh air.”

******

 _Your hour was almost up._ Toron declared when Nim finally stepped out into open land. _I could hear cries of the dwarves. I almost called for them._ Toron said lifting his head to look out over the field.

“I am glad you did not. There would have been a true battle.” Nim mused urging Toron to crouch a bit so that she could place Kili on his back. The stag complied turning his head to sniff at the boy as he did. “His leg is broken we must hurry to his people.”

 _We are long long from his home._ Toron said turning in the direction of the Dwarves land. _And I cannot run with him on my back, we will have to walk._

“We will make it work.” Nim chose a stick from the ground and then pulled herself onto Toron as they moved. “Let me see your leg Kili. If we do not splint it, it may heal wrong.”   She turned Kili so his back was to Toron’s neck and had him reach up to grasp Toron’s antlers. “Now you need to hold tight.”

“Will it hurt?” Kili asked quickly.

Nim leveled the stick with his leg before looking up at him. “Yes, I need to feel around it to make sure nothing is out of place and I must tie it tight.” Kili shut his eyes tightly and nodded for her to continue.

Nim felt up his leg finding the break and squeezing around to feel the bone. Kili whimpered but held still. When Nim was sure the bone was not horrible out of place she began to bind the wound and tie it tight. When she pulled back Kili opened his eyes and looked down at his leg. He then accepted the bit of dried meat Nim offered him.

“You’re hurt.” He murmured looking at her arms, in deed they were littered with claw marks and bite wounds. “Do you have medicine?” He asked.

“I will be alright, why don’t you close your eyes and try to rest?” Nim suggested, “We have a long way to go. You came a very long way.”

Kili bowed his head but said no more. Nim watched him for a bit before she turned to dig within her bags and pulled free a small blade. Nim unhooked something from her belt and began to whittle at the object on her belt. Kili watched her with heavy lidded eyed. Nim began to hum.

“What are you doing?” Kili asked.

“Magic.” Nim murmured, “At least that is how you will understand it. I learned how by a . . . companion, a long time ago. It will help the blade be more than just metal and wood and leather.” Kili nodded his head faintly watching her for a time longer.

“What happen to them?” Kili asked, “Your friend who taught you?”

Nim’s hand paused on the handle of the blade she whittled at, “She died, a long long time ago.” Nim said quietly lifting her gaze to Kili who nodded again.

“Was she nice?” Kili asked.

“The kindest in the world.” Nim smiled a bit putting her whittler down. “That should do it.” Nim held out the blade to show the little dwarf.

“An owl.” He murmured reaching out to brush his fingers against the fresh carven wood.

“An owl.” Nim repeated pulling it back towards herself.

****

There were still dwarves outside the great doorway when they finally arrived. There were a great number of them in fact. Some were returning on Rams from their searches, others on foot. Nim’s eyes searched over the many faces and found Fili sitting in the middle of the great door upon one of the ledges that make up the decorative carvings of the stone. Toron crested the ridge of the valley and Nim could see Fili notice him at once. The little creature scrambled to his feet and began climbing down. He was shouting something that was sending the dwarves below him looking around.

 _They will wake the wild thing._ Toron murmured turning to look at the sleeping dwarf cradled in Nim’s arms.

“It is for the best.” Nim hummed watching as the dwarves all stopped and stared unsure of whether to rush forward or be cautious. “Come Kili, echuio, we have arrived to your home.” She shifted her hold so that she could brush at his messed hair. “Echuio.” Nim repeated shaking him a bit.

The young dwarf frowned but opened his eyes to look up at Nim. She grinned down at him before sitting him up to look out over the mass of dwarves who stood to watch their slow approach. Kili’s eyes grew wide in wonder and he looked back and Nim.

“Are you going to leave again?” He asked.

“I need to find shelter for the winter and I am far from my normal paths.” She said.

“You could stay here.” He offered, “We have room in our home.” He declared.

“That is not a choice you can give, Kili.” Nim patted his hair.

“For supper?” He asked then

“If your mother allows it.” Nim said finally.

A dwarf had broken rank and was heading towards them as fast as her legs could take her. Behind her Fili scurried eyes bright with excitement to see them both well and alive. “See mother! See!” Fili declared charging ahead of her, “I told you she would find them!”

The two dwarves stopped before her seeming excessively small against the great thing that was Toron. Nim slid off of Toron and handed Kili over to his mother. “His leg is broken.” She warned as she straitened.

“You are the elf then?” The dwarf mother demanded, “The one my boys have been sneaking off to see?”

Nim nodded once touching Toron’s side. She had never felt small under anyone’s gaze but now she felt not bigger than an ant before this dwarf and her children. She looked Nim up and down taking in everything from her hair to the wounds on her body. She looked to Toron and cut through him from antler to hoof.

 _I like her, she is like a mother bear._ Toron’s voice caught the dwarf off guard but she recovered quick and squinted at him.

“Come with me.” She ordered turning away from them and starting back towards the group. When Nim hesitated she turned back to look at the two, “your wounds need some cleaning and bandaging. Wounds like that can become infected surprisingly quick if not cared for.”

“Thank you, but you need not do anything.” Nim said carefully, “I need to get on the road. I have already overstayed. If I stay any longer I risk getting trapped in the snow.”

“You said you would stay for dinner!” Kili cried, “Maamr Please!”

Dis looked to Nim her eyes cutting over her once more. Nim felt as if this dwarf could look right through her and see every last bit of her soul. It unnerved Nim and yet created a longing in Nim she had not known she had. She was critical and untrustworthy of Nim because she wanted to protect her children. A mother bear as Toron had stated. Nim did not have a mother.

“Come.” Dis said so gently that Nim was sure she heard her thoughts a moment before. “Let us get you cleaned up, you will stay for the night.” She started forward again and Nim followed unsure of how to protest when her tone had given no room for it.

“My name is Nimineth and this is Toron.” Nim said absently unsure of what to even say.

“I know.” The dwarf cracked her first smile, bright and warm. “Fili has told me everything he could about you, which wasn’t much.” She eyed Nim again.

“I am Dis.” The dwarf added looking forward once more.


	5. A Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is word from across the land. Toron let his gaze go to Dis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so sorry for my absence. Between school work, metal health problems as well as surgeries writing has fallen to the way side. Thank you to all who still hang with me! I hope you enjoy.

Nim remained silent watching as Dis worked the healing salve over her arms and legs and other wounds. Dis worked quickly and roughly, rubbing it in with sure fingers. When she pulled away and grabbed for the bandages Nim pulled her arms back.

“That won’t be necessary.” Nim said examining her glossy limbs. “These will heal in a few hours.”

“They can still get an infection.” Dis said, “Arm, now.”

Nim hesitated but obeyed holding her arm out and allowing the dwarf to wrap the bandage up the length of her limbs, tying them off. “There, anymore?”

“I will be fine.” Nim said shifting back.

“These are goblins, elf, not something known for having the cleanest of hands or teeth. Even with your fancy healing you can get a nasty infection.” Dis grabbed at her shirt, one she had insisted she change into before Dis laid a hand upon her. Nim jerked back toppling the chair she sat within and stood.

“I said I’m okay.” Nim snapped wrapping her arms around herself. “You have done enough.” Nim said a bit calmer.

“Boys. Go to bed.” Dis ordered catching the two boys, who had remained silent while watching their mother work, jolted in surprise. Kili began to protest but Dis only needed to look over her shoulder to send both boys scrambling down the hall.

She turned back to Nim then, “Talk.”

“There is nothing to speak on.” Nim busied herself with righting the chair and dusting at its cushion.

“You are not leaving this room until you talk.” Dis moved and planted herself in front of the doorway to the hall and her exit.

“Do not treat me as if a child.” Nim glowered, “I have seen many more days than you could even dream of.”

If the words were meant to impress the dwarf, she did not show it. In fact, Dis seemed to look as far from impressed as possible, she looked sad. She dropped her arms and rubbed at her face before stepping aside and motioning Nim to follow her. She though hesitated her eyes darting to the hall that lead to the exit. She could run now, she could call for Toron and they would be gone without a single dwarf being able to stop her. Still she stayed with the dwarf and followed her into the kitchen.

Dis went about the process of preparing tea, stoking the fire, filling the kettle, gathering the tea leaves. Both remained silent until the kettle hissed and cups were full and steaming with slightly over brewed tea. Both sat at the little table and Nim fidgeted with her mug until Dis finally let out a loud breath.

“I know fear when I see it. I saw it in hundreds of dwarves as we fled from my homeland. Tough I haven’t seen fear quiet like yours, willing to let wounds to fester and rot instead of showing a bit of flesh. You looked ready to flee like a startled rabbit . . . you still look like it.” Dis added softly

“I feel like I should.”

“You don’t need to be frightened here. We dwarves don’t see horrible wounds like those of other nations. They are badges of honor to us. Signs of horrors that we have faced and lived through. We danced with death and lived.”

Nim fell silent tracing the rim of her mug with her fingers. “I don’t want to be pitied.” She whispered.

“And you won’t get it.” Dis said firmly, “Let me see.” She repeated again.

Nim didn’t move at first but slowly she turned so her back faced the dwarf and tugged at the hem until she was pulling the fabric over her head, flinching as she heard Dis’ quiet intake of breath. She dropped the shirt to the ground.

“I did not know elves could scar. . . “She murmured.

“They do if you strike hard enough.” Nim bit out bitterly.

“Let me get those scratches cleaned.” Dis said after another moment and dampened a rag and began to carefully clean the lines of red that overlaid the rest of her back. Nim bowed her head and twisted the fabric in her hands until Dis stepped back.

“There, that wasn’t so bad.” She moved around to face Nim with a smile, “Now come it is late and you need to rest.” Dis pulled her up and waited only a breath for Nim to replace her shirt before leading her down the narrow halls to a room.

“This is my brother’s room, but he’s away at war for the moment.” Dis said, “I had some of the others bring another bed in, do you think it’ll be big enough?”

“I sleep on the ground most nights, this is perfect.” Nim mused sitting down on the bed.

“Well then . . . good, I’ll have some of the cloth workers to get you some proper clothes and you’ll be ready to go by midafternoon.” Dis clapped her hands and stepped out before Nim could give any thanks to her.

 _Are you alright little one?_ Toron’s deep rumble filled the room and she lifted her head to find the great stag who had to duck his head in the small room. How he had managed to get through the small halls of the home, or get past dis or the boys without a sound, Nim would never know. She could ask but Toron would only laugh.

The great stag stepped forward and carefully worked his way onto the beds, they squeaked and groaned a bit but after Toron had made himself comfortable on the fabrics none would of guessed he weighed as much as he did. Nim curled against him with a content sigh.

_I like this place, it makes you smile._

*******************************************

“Kili! You should not be running around like this! Fili what on earth do you think you are doing with that flour? Nim! Get your deer out of my kitchen!” Dis cried darting about the home only half agitated by the newcomers who disrupted her already disrupted home. “Toron, how on earth did you even get in here?! We are going to have to cut the door to my home even larger now!”

It had been three years since Nim’s original evening. The afternoon of her leaving had been moved to the next evening and then the next week. Dis always coming up with some clever excuse to keep Nim a time longer. After the first six month Nim stopped bringing her bag into the main room. Now Dis had others carving a larger room for Nim’s own.

There was a crash in the distance followed by the cursing by the workers. Nim darted from the hall covered in a fine layer of stone dust. Dis stopped her before Nim could slip away completely and placed her hands on her hips.

“I wanted to try to help carve!” Nim defended, “Everyone was on break and I figured-“

“Nim you are as good at stone work as your hair is black. You keep your hands away from that stuff before you crush those delicate fingers.” Dis pulled the rag tucked into her side and smeared away the dust as she scolded. “If you want to help go find someone who will work with you in jewel fitting. Takes good fingers to do that.” She pulled away when she was satisfied with her work.

“Alright.”

“And get that damn deer out of my-“ Dis turned to point into the kitchen only to find it empty, Nim laughed, “Just go and keep out of trouble.” Dis sighed

Nim bounded to the door and slid to a stop. “Come on boys! To the forges!” Nim cried followed by a poof of flour from the boy’s rooms and both of them, coated in white, dashing out the door before Dis could get a word out.

Nim blazed a trail as bright as the sun through the mountain, and though a good deal of the dwarves still disliked her presence, none could completely hate her. She was quick to learn, to right wrong she had done and even began to pick up their language, even if it was a bit choppy. What seemed to allow her stay most was her fascination with the work they did. The mining, the smelting, carving and everything else the dwarves took great pride in. She could spend hours questioning and watching their work.

Few had ever showed such interest in the dirty jobs, let alone want to try them for herself. She was no good at mining herself, but her eyes were sharp in the dark and she was able to find a great deal more than the dwarves. She never dared get near the forges and the process of smelting though she was quick to help. Gathering coal for the fire, new tools when they were called for. By the end of the day she would be sweaty and dirty but her eyes shined.

*****

“Were are we going Nim?” Kili cried throwing his arms out at his sides like a bird as they ran to keep up with her quick steps.

Nim slowed though thinking, “f-felek?” Nim said after a moment.

Fili and Kili began to parrot back the term, though even in their young voices it sounded rough and deep. Nim began to parrot back trying to correct the pronunciation of the word. When they were satisfied that it sounded less like and elf word and more like a dwarf one they fell silent and Nim started her brisk walk once more.

The room in which jewels were fitted and polished and carved was one that was both bright like the sky and dark like their caves. All throughout the room were long tables, some piled with rough jewels while others gleamed with others ready to be fitted or sold. By each were dwarves sitting close together with lights created by their own form of magic. Each dwarf worked diligently, their job to precious to want them to lift their gaze to the three newcomers.

The boys scrambled off running to a dwarvn woman who worked the raw precious stones until they gleamed. The woman at once paused and hugged the boy, plopping Kili on her lap and making room for Fili to sit on the table. Nim watched them for a moment before moving in a wide circle around the many tables.

“Hail.” Nim said quietly prompting an elderly dwarf to lift his head.

“Hail.” He said lifting the lenses from his eyes, “You are the elf that has invaded out home?” He glared at her. “What brings you here?” He returned to work.

“I want to learn to work with the jewels. Fitting them, polishing.” Nim scanned the room and found an empty chair and stepped away. Nim was well aware of the elder dwarf’s eyes on her as she moved. She brought the chair to the side of the elder dwarf, who huffed but did not protest.

“Will you teach me?” Nim prompted after a long moment of watch him.

“Didn’t think an elf needed any teaching from any dwarf. You’s all being special and favored and all that.”

“I am not like other elves.”

“Look like and elf, walk like and talk like one too. Came parading in here like some big hero, and made yourself right at home.”

“I never wanted to intrude, but Dis wanted me to stay, and I truly would like to learn.” Nim shifted closer, “I like working in the forges and in the kitchens.” The elderly dwarf snorted, “I may not have the skills but I want to learn.”

“Elves cannot learn, they only judge.” The elf spat finally, “No be away with you!”

Nim leaned back and looked ready to storm from the room, the others had stopped working to listen in. She stared at the old dwarf and a dainty grunt she stood, but did not leave. Instead she gathered at random the tools hanging on the walls as well as a couple of large chunks of raw gems. She dropped her goods upon the table with a loud clatter and sat down.

“What are you doing? Put those things out before you lose one of those precious fingers.” He reached to snatch the gem from Nim’s hands but she was quicker and lifted it above his reach. He glared hard at her before returning to his own work with an angry grunt.

Nim grabbed at one of the smaller picks and then hesitated. She turned to watch the elderly dwarf work to chip away the bits of lesser rock examining it here and there in a bright light next to him. What he was searching for was beyond Nim, so she started simple, chipping away at the useless grey stone. She took her time chipping away at two gems she had snatched. She made sure that from whatever agle you looked all you saw was the dusty glow of the precious material. She looked back at the dwarf and with a quick hand snatched a fallen chunk of gem from below his pick. He grumbled in annoyance but did not protest. She examined the bit of rock and compared it to the one in the dwarf’s hand. She picked out the difference in color and clearness, saw the faults in the little chunk that were not part of the stone in his hands. She grabbed for the pick again as reached from the deep ruby she had grabbed. She rolled it in the light again and again until she believed to have found a fault, a discoloration at one edge.

She lifted her pick a bit to hit it and-

“Enough of that!” The old dwarf grabbed the pick from her hands, “You are about to ruin a good bit of stone there!” Nim grabbed for another and he sighed, “You really are not going to drop this are you?”

“I want to learn.” Nim repeated stubbornly.

Which a sigh the old dwarf put down the pick and scooted his chair closer to hers. With a smack he made her drop the other pick and began to instruct, smacking her hands each time she even held a tool wrong. Nim listened though, taking the hits without fuss, her brow creased with concentration.

By the time she was done the back of her hands were raw, a finger crushed and another wrapped after she sliced her finger with another tool. Yet she held two little gems, uneven and rough but set into their own makeshift pendants and strung with silver chain.

*******

“They are fine works for them being your first.” Dis said over dinner, the boys were retelling her trial of learning to cut gems with rapture. How she endured cruel punishment by the elder dwarf, who smashed her hands with a hammer each time she breathed wrong.

“She put a cure on them! And is going to give it to the old man!” Fili declared

“Yea! That will make his left ear itch for the rest of his days!” Kili chimed in.

Nim took one of the pendants and threw it around Kili’s neck, who at once began to scratch at his ear and curse the elf for her cruel trick.   The whole table laughed and each took turns wearing a pendant and scratching at one body part or another with misery until they were all winded and red faced. Toron entered towards the end of the antics and Nim too the chance to hook it over an antler. Everyone waited for the stag’s dramatic part in the play but when none came the joyful mood at once died.

“What is wrong Toron?” Nim asked taking the necklace from the stag.

 _There is word from across the land._ Toron let his gaze go to Dis.

“Boys, to bed now.” Dis said quietly, the two young ones protested before Dis snapped at them to leave the room. “What has happen Toron?” Dis demanded.

 _Thror is dead._ Toron said finally, _And with him the hope of reclaiming Moria_. He bowed his head as Dis did her eyes dampening her cheeks. _They managed to fight off the orcs but they were left with few at the end of it._

“Is Vili among them? And Thorin and father?” Dis demanded getting to her feet, “Are they alright?”

Toron shook his head, _I do not know those in the returning party, they only spoke of Thror and their loss._

**********

 _You want to leave?_ Toron questioned sniffing at the saddle bags he had not worn for some time.

“Want to? No.” Nim spread her outfits out across the bed trying to choose which she would keep. She had so many outfits now, she could only argue to keep but three at most, it seemed impossible to choose.

 _But you are planning to_. Toron stated nosing at a nicer outfit of a pail blue.

Nim picked it up and carefully folded it before placing it into one of the bags, “Yes.”

 _You hide from me little one, speak to me_.

“I have grown restless.” Nim picked another outfit before her eyes went to the bottles of oils and soaps across her dresser. “It is time we move again, there is still much we have not seen.” She picked up a few vials, she had no use for such things before, they were a luxury she could live without.

_The nightmares have returned, is that why you slip away when you think I sleep?_

“I made sure you were asleep.”

 _When you sleep I do, when you are awake it is the same._ Toron nosed her hair, _Talk to the bear mother, she is differe-_

“No!” Nim jerked away, “No, this isn’t our place.” She added quieter bowing her head.

Toron stared at her for a long moment before her nodded once. He swung his head to look upon the clothes and picked a heavy furred one that would be good for the cold they would face. Nim packed it. His eyes turned to the bottles on the dresser and he carefully chose one that smelled rich like earth and soil and leaves. He tucked it carefully between the two outfits.

“River water is enough to cleanse me.”

_You are allowed to have comforts my little one, if only small ones._

_When do you plan to leave?_

“Tomorrow night.” Nim sighed, “I will need time to gather provisions at least till we reach a mortal town.” She bowed her head and fell back onto the bed.

 _You do not plan to tell them._ Toron stated sniffing at another bottle. _It will break the wild things hearts_

“It is easier this way.”

 _Then we will need to rest_. Toron rumbled nosing the rest of the clothes off the bed and taking his usual place. _Where do you wish to go next?_

“Across the land, to older lands.” Nim curled against him.

 _To be a ghost again_ Toron teased

“I am always a ghost.” Nim retorted.

 


	6. The elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nim, this is my brot-“
> 
> “What is she doing here?” The dwarf cut in.
> 
> “If you just give me a moment-“
> 
> “Why is an elf in our home?” He demanded his hand slipped into the coat he still wore.
> 
> “Thor-“
> 
> “What is an elf doing in our home?” The dwarf snarled, “How dare you taint our mountain with your lying-“He lunged for Nim drawing a blade from within his coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIIVVVVEEEE college is a bitch did you know that? and writers block is a bitch too!

“Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help?” Nim asked for the hundredth time as dwarves all around her scurried to prepare for the returning army. “I can go ahead and round up the seriously wounded. Whatever medical help they had is likely long gone now.”

“Yea, our rams can carry but one other and the sleds two max. Her stag could carry many more.” One dwarf spoke up, “She wants to be useful let her.”

“I just . . . don’t think it is wise that their first sight is an elf.” Dis admitted ashamed. She bowed her head and glanced to Nim who was tilting her head.

“Then I will remain here. Toron, can go with the parties to gather dwarves. So long as someone helps them on, he won’t let them fall.” The great stag stepped out from a tunnel and trotted forward.

 _I will help in any way I can._ Toron nodded once and allowed himself to be lead away to prepare for the travels.

“You want me to hide for now don’t you?” Nim turned to Dis, “it is okay, I understand your fears.”

Before Dis could say another word Nim was stepping away towards their home and disappearing into the crowd. Dis called for her boys and sent them of to keep Nim Company. She rubbed her hands across her face. To explain her to the others when they arrived would be a choir, and one she did not want to do.

*********

When the returning warriors arrived it was like someone had kicked a hive of bees. Dwarves were running and shouting ordering gauze and other medical supplies. For the first morning Nim remained tucked away in Dis’ home. By the evening Nim was moving secretly through the tunnels helping with medical supplies and then death shrouds.

The forges cooled, kept up just enough to keep them from being damaged, mining was nearly completely halted as multitudes of injured and dead came through. There was no time to do anything but bandage and clean and cry. The emotions exhausted Nim and when she could she would slip out and breathe in the mountain air.

 _Flowers would be nice, for the fallen._ Toron stepped out from a small like of trees making a point to rub his sides trying to clean them of the blood from his charges. _A bit of life for someplace so full of death._ He pressed his nose to the side of her face before he left.

Nim searched the mountain side for the stubs of flowers deep asleep in a time that was becoming cold once more. Nim did not use her elvish nature often, the magic as many other folk called it. It always brought forth far too much attention for one who liked to be invisible. Here though there were few people to spy upon her and she only felt a beat of trepidation before brushed her fingers across the rotted remains, urging life through their dormant roots.

By the time she had filled the ground around her with gem colored flower she a deep set exhaustion clear to the marrow of her bones. She closed her eyes and let the heady scent of the fresh blooms fill her lungs. She inhaled again and jolted the sweet bloom replaced by coppery blood and rot. She forced her eyes open and honed in on the flowers breathing deeply until their sweet scents returned. She waited a moment longer to make sure reality stayed put before she began picking the flowers and filling her arms.

In the room filled with the shrouds of death, each waiting to be placed within their tombs inside the mountain, Nim placed a few flowers. The colors ranged for simple whites to elaborate twisting of colors brought to life by her mind. Some were even transparent, crystalline in appearance to resemble the multitudes of jewels the dwarves loved so. She had to return three times to her little flower patch before every fallen dwarf was gifted the flowers.

She tucked herself back into the shadows and watched as the first families of the departed arrived staring at awe at the flowers across the bodies. Some cried, other clutched them like a life line, some ripped the flowers to pieces in a rage. Nim smeared away the tears that had dampened her face and began silent prayers to Mahal for each of the leaving dead.

 _Nim, you need rest._ Toron’s voice started Nim and she looked about finding her hiding place still unfound. Still his words were true and she need to sleep. She slipped down one of the tunnels and started to Dis’ home . . . to her home.

“Dis? I am bac-“Nim halted in the doorway to the main living area the ridged sensation of tension freezing her. The boys were at the feet of a newly bandaged dwarf, Dis was at his shoulder frozen as well.

No one breathed.

Nim shifted acutely aware of the growing rage in the unknown dwarf’s gaze, the growing trepidation in dis’. She cleared her throat and stepped away from the dwarf and with a look sent the boys to the corner of the room.

“Nim, this is my brot-“

“What is she doing here?” The dwarf cut in.

“If you just give me a moment-“

“Why is an elf in our home?” He demanded his hand slipped into the coat he still wore.

“Thor-“

“What is an elf doing in our home?” The dwarf snarled, “How dare you taint our mountain with your lying-“He lunged for Nim drawing a blade from within his coat. He slashed at empty air were Nim once was.

“Thorin sit down you are still too injured to-“

Dis grabbed at the dwarf but he shoved her off chasing after Nim hacking endlessly at the air. Nim kept just out of reach the blade shredding her top. Each missed swipe seemed to enrage the dwarf more. His blade hacked into the furniture leaving deep gashes or bits chopped off.

 _Little One!_ Toron appeared fitting through the doorway with ease yet seemed to take up the room with his crown.

“Stay back!” Nim paused long enough for Thorin to slash a deep wound into her arm. He raised his blade to strike again. Nim lashed out her hand wrapping her fingers around Thorin’s arm and twisting until Thorin was forced to drop the blade. Thorin swung his other arm and Nim twisted him around by his hand and forced him to the ground. She kicked the blade across the room and then shoved Thorin away from herself.

“Filthy, lying-“

“Thorin that is enough! Just listen to me!” Dis snapped grabbing hold of her brother before he went for the elf again.

“Nim, can you just give us a moment please, let me talk to my brother.” Dis pleaded, “Go help gather supplies for the healers, I’m sure they are running ragged and would appreciate your help.” She squeeze Nim’s arm, “We’ll get him sorted.”

“Right . . . yes.” Nim bowed her head and stepped back, she pressed her skirt into her wound to stem the bleed, “I will look for your husband, he must have been among the many who were rushed in.”

“I know the boys will be-“

“Vili is dead! And he would be rolling in his grave to see her here!” Thorin proclaimed savagely.

All eyes turned to the dwarf still sitting on the floor, Dis’ eyes were already welling and the boys were quickly slinking back behind the wall to flee to their room. Nim on the other hand stepped forward nearly baring her teeth like a wolf as she sucked in an outraged breath.

“Nim just go!” Dis wretched, “I’ll fetch you by the evening.”

“Dis-“Nim halted herself and nodded once stepping back to the door. “I am glad I could call this place home. Your nephews, your sons-“Her eyes darted to Thorin and then to Dis, “Are as precious to me as Toron.”

Nim ducked out of the room before either could respond. Dis quickly darted to the doorway letting out a relieved breath as she saw Nim walking briskly towards the healers den, pausing only once to help another keep his unconscious charge on his ram.

The elf seemed to sense her gaze because she turned and lifted her hand a bit to wave before disappearing down one of the halls.

Dis would go to the healers well before evening had set and find that Nim had disappeared earlier in the day, not long after Toron had delivered the last of the wounded. Her room left untouched her filled pack left on the bed.

*******

“She’s really gone.” Dis sighed.

“I cannot see why you care more of this elf than-“

“If you think I do not mourn Vili then maybe you should not have returned!” Dis snapped back, “I mourn him, as I do our grandfather. It is like I have been ripped to pieces. But I morn Nim as well.” Her gaze dared her brother to protest her statement, “She was family here, so now have we not only lost Vili and Thror, but Nim as well.”

“Mother! Mother!” Fili and Kili belted from their room both clutching items to their chests.

“They’re from-“Fili started,

“Nim!” And Kili finished.

 

Kili held out a little knife the handle carefully engraved with an owl, its worn leather sheath already buckled to his belt. Fili produced a myriad of beads made for the hair. Dis remembered Nim showing her the blank bits of gold after she had helped forge them. Now though they were carefully etched with designs that could be nothing more than elvish. What they said, Dis didn’t know.

******

_You could go back._

“No, no I couldn’t. My place is not there, not anymore.” Nim shook her head tying the new saddle bags to Toron’s back. “We belong to the wind, remember Toron, it may go silent for a time but it always blows again.”

 _That, my Little one, is true. Let the wind take us again, fly over the land and make it our own._ Toron reared back kicking his front leg out before him before he allowed his great body to drop back down. He shook his head grandly.

Nim laughed as the ground shook slightly and grabbed for some of the supplies to place into the bags now at Toron’s side. Toron made a point to crouch and carefully lay down to allow Nim easier access to the bag.

 _We are being watched._ Toron tilted his head towards a little girl who shifted at the corner of the street.

She shifted back and forth, her eyes darting to Nim and Toron and then quickly away. Taking step forward and then quickly back again. When she realized Nim was watching she quickly dropped her gaze. She made a point to play with her hair, trying to fix it and her clothes. They had stopped in a small town that was good at going unnoticed as may type of people traveled through the streets. Though the streets were also filled with people that never left.

_She looks like a beggar girl_

“We should see what she has to sell.” Nim got to her feet and started towards the girl who froze in place. Toron didn’t move but watched from where he lay in the dirt. When Nim got closer the girl started to inch back looking ready to bolt.

“I like your Ribbons.” Nim crouched resting on the balls of her feet. “May I see them?” the little girl nods wide eyed and stepped forward mechanically holding out the basket in her hands. Nim grasped a few bits of cloth examining the fine fabric.

“I didn’ steal it I swear.” She squeaked out pulling the ribbons back towards herself.

“I never thought you did.” Nim smiled looking back to Toron.

“Where are you going?” The girl asked holding her little box out once more.

“Not sure yet, wherever the wind takes me.” Nim turned back and took in the little girl’s features. Long blond hair and bright blue eyes, “I think I figured out where to go though.” Nim dug out a silver coin from her bag and took several of the ribbons before slipping away.

 _Where has the wind chosen?_ Toron asked as she climbed onto his back. Nim smiled and patted the side of his neck. Toron snorted and shook his head, _The elf,_ he groaned starting towards the main road.

“Yes, the elf.” Nim mused

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The elf . . . . now comes the fun!


	7. Let me help you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am alone because the only one who understands is Toron. He is all I need. Not you, not the dwarves, not anyone!”

“You have been gone some time.” Thranduil stated into the forest. It remained silent until a stag parted through the trees seeming as bright as the moon among all the gloom. “I thought a warg had eaten you.”

The stag snorted and shook his head sending the bells tied to the antlers ringing high and vibrant.

“I rode one for a time.” The little ghost, as he liked to call her, spoke up from somewhere within the trees. His first instinct was to search for the face but he remained still. He had learned through trial and error that if he looked too much she would disappear without a word with only a hope of return.

“We were ambushed and they thought we were an easy kill. Toron took them out with little problem and I got the experience of muzzling a warg and ridding him, if only for the amusement.”

“Did you kill it afterwards?” Thranduil asked finding a comfortable place at the roots of a tree. The question was really only to annoy her. Thranduil had come to enjoy the way her voice became passionate and heated while remaining as gentle as it was.

“Of course not!” She gasped from somewhere nearer, “I made a deal with it, you live we live. Simple as that.”

Her voice was somewhere much closer now. Like she was mere feet away hiding in the bushes behind him. Oh, how he wanted to look. Learn the face of the creature who had haunted his forest for the past hundred years. A curiosity that has nipped at him since he had first come across her quiet presence. He resisted though. Despite not knowing her face he knew her mind very well. For him to find her, to see her, before she had deemed him able would end with her never returning. She would never say something so cruel but it was true all the same. He did not know what he would do if his little ghost moved on.

“You are thinking rather deeply.” Her voice was just by his head now, a test. All he needed to do was turn his head and such nagging curiosity would be gone. “What do you wonder?” She asked her voice farther back now.

“Wondering where you had gone.”

“Were you worried?” She teased.

“Three years is a long time between your visits. Normally it is only a few months at the longest.” He continued on.

“I was in the mountains.” She said now on his left moving about the trees. A flash of a foot here the flicker of fingers there. “IT was only to be a bit of exploring but then I met these two young boys-“

“Dwarves?” He questioned frowning. His little ghost around those brutish rude things.

“Yes.” She shot back, “Just little things. They would visit my camp and then the youngest went missing and I saved him from some goblins. Their mother invited me for dinner.”

“A three year dinner?” He asked.

“You sound jealous.” She mused, “I just sort of ended up staying and staying. I helped cook and worked in the forges even. I don’t think I would ever be as good as them but one of the dwarves I apprenticed under said I had potential.”

“Why did you return?” He asked

“Many dwarves had gone to try and retake Moria.” Thranduil snorted at this, she ignored it. “And they had returned, many many had died. Their king was dead, a father missing, another dead. It was my time to go.” She said quietly.

“You did not want to.”

She remained quiet, so long so that he thought she had left, until, “It was a home. . . I do not find those often.”

“IS this a home to you?” He asked looking about the trees.

Again, silence.

“That has yet to be decided.”

Then she was gone.

***********

When she had first became a part of his forest it was through the threat of invasion. Many times his patrols would catch a flicker of movement, a hand, a lock of hair, a rustle of leaves. Each time they would give chance and each time they would come up scattered and confused. Many began to whisper of an invasion, by whom no one was sure but how else could their trained warriors be scattered so effortlessly. No single being could do that at least that is what they believed. Thranduil himself had even began to take measures to protect himself and his son. Neither were ever alone when outside the walls of the palace, not that Thranduil’s son much enjoyed it.

For months this went on, until Thranduil had had enough of it and went out into the trees alone to face their attackers. He could feel them watching, though they were as silent as any mouse that feared its life. For than once he looked one way or another, sure that they had to be right next to them. He realize quickly that if he was to ever seen them, he needed to stop looking. So he stopped and he waited, let his scan the area trying to pick out who was- THERE!

He lashed out slicing away the bushes, and swung around again swinging his blade twice more before he was met with a cry of pain and the end of his sword dipped in blood. He lunged forward to at least keep the creature from fleeing, if not killing it outright. Instead of flesh, his blade met bone and was thrust back by the powerful antlers of a giant stag. With a furious snort the creature tossed him away like a twig and charged at him.

“Stop!” Her cry echoed off the trees and like a spell the stag stilled his lifted hoof stilled over Thranduil’s ankle.

The stag swung his head to look back to the trees as if speaking to the figure in the trees. He swung his head back and slammed his hoof down a mere inch from Thranduil’s leg before he scooped his sword in his antlers and chucked it far into the trees.

“Are you alright?” Her voice came from the trees above him though when he looked she stayed out of sight, “He can be a bit brutish when I get hurt.” A drop of blood fell from the trees giving away her position, but again she slipped away before he could ger a proper focus on her

“Who are you?”

“You were not meant to see me.”

“Then why did you hesitate, you obviously have no problem making my subjects believe you are hundreds.”

“Ghosts sometimes show themselves to be reminded that they are still there.”

“But you are not a ghost.”

“I am to you.”

“How?”

“I know you.” Another drop of blood

“But I do not know you.” He watched it soak into the dirt around him

“You do not know me.” She mirrored, her voice growing quiet. “And you never will.”

It was like the forest was then empty of any life, the stag had slipped away as had his owner the only sign of their truth was a drying line of blood on a leaf. Thranduil got to his feet and brushed his clothes off. He found his blade a few yards away at the foot of a tree, her blood had been cleaned away by something.

He thought he had scared her off before she appeared again, or rather her stag showed himself. It was several months later when the stag slipped out of the tree line and then weaved in again. Thranduil couldn’t help but follow it.

“You are Thranduil.” Her voice rang from the trees

“And you are a ghost.”

She laughed and the stag shook his head pacing around Thranduil his eyes sharp on the blade strapped to his hip. “He dislike your weaponry.”

“He should get used to it-“The stag snorted snapping his teeth together, “- I feel the need for protection against a faceless being.”

“You are frightened?”

“I am curious.” He corrected quickly, a glare sent up towards the trees, “Curiosity can be dangerous.”

“So you are afraid of your curiosity . . . that stems from me.” She her tone became teasing and the branches above him shook sending leaves raining over him, “So in a way you are still scared of me.”

The stag bleated a laugh shaking his great crown in amusement as Thranduil glared up at the trees. His eyes caught the flash of toes and could not help but follow them, trying to find the body in the trees that so skillfully hid from his sight.

“Why don’t you come out?” He asked

Silence

“Little Ghost?” His eyes dropped to the trunks of the trees and found the stag too had disappeared. He had gotten as far as her calf before he had lost sight. He waited a moment more listening to his forest tilting his head one way and ten the other, listening for the subtle changed that could signal her place in the trees. He was met with more silence.

“Maybe it is you who is frightened, Little ghost.”

*******

“You have been looking for me.”

Thranduil lifted his gaze to the trees, he saw a pair of feet poking out from around a tree but no more. He remained silent watching the toes wiggling against the wood as if memorizing it with every touch. He had seen glimpses of her hands doing the same thing.

“I am simply walking.” He said finally moving forward through the path.

“One can walk and look at the same time.” Her voice trailed from above him, “I’ve been watching and you have been looking. There is nothing new to your forest but myself. So it is easy to assume you have been looking for me.”

“So humble.” He said unable to help his smirk when she laughed sending birds flying and crying out around her.

“He is wearing off on me after so long.”

Thranduil’s eyes when to the stag who materialized in the trees a yard or so from himself. The creature did not stop his powerful stride and glided along beside Thranduil before turning and disappearing to the darkness without a twig snap. Forever her guardian.

“Winter will be upon us soon.” Thranduil said eyeing the greying leaves above and around him. “The frost will be early.”

“I will have to seek shelter soon then. I can survive a winter out in the wild but that does not make it fun.”

“Where will you go?” Thranduil asked unable to help himself from looking up into the branches for her. This time he caught a flash of a pant leg.

She had become a little less careful on keeping herself hidden, it was never more than the flash of an arm or a leg, the color of her top. Though her toes and hands were always constant when he really looked, enough to keep him sated but never satisfied.

“Here or there. I have places to stay. Be it for a week or a whole season. It is easy to find lodgings when others know you are willing to work for your keep.”

“Are they far away?”

“You are sounding terribly concerned for me.” Her tone took a teasing lit to it, “Some are-“She started after a long silence, “Far that is, clear to oceans and Great Mountains.”

Her hand appeared as she hugged the trunk of a tree. Thranduil had memorized them at this point. Long delicate fingers of fare skin, always covered in something, be it anything from dirt to cuts. Today it was a white powder, most likely flower. A big difference from the cuts and ware of travel they had shown when she had first returned from her “dinner” a week prior. It comforted him, knowing that whatever she was doing for the cold season, she had some place to keep warm.

“You have gone quiet.” Her hand pulled away disappearing into the tree, seeming to realize he was staring at it.

“When will you stop hiding from me? We have known each other for thirty years, yet I know not your name nor your face.”

“You do not need to know them, why can you not be content with how things are?” Her voice was farther away, she was deciding whether or not to leave. Thranduil had this sudden urge to keep her here a bit longer.

“Tell me of your dwarves.” He asked turning to head towards the place they most often met. He had a bench placed below a large tree, so he didn’t have to keep moving if he did not wish it.

“You did not seem keen on them before.” Her voice was near again.

“Well, they obviously did something right to keep your interest for so long. Maybe I can figure out how to recreate that here.” It had been meant as a joke but his ghost seemed to not see it as he was given no response and when he called for her she did not respond.

“You belong here little ghost.” He stated into the trees, “Elves, we are not creatures of solitude. We are like seeds, carried across the ocean to set roots upon this land, to become beautiful gardens . . . Why are you so insistent that you must remain in the air alone?” When he was met with nothing he stood and glared up at the trees, “I know you are suffering, that you must feel alone. A ghost screaming to be heard in a world where no one belies you exist” he bit out, “But I look for you, I worry for you.”

“I want to help you.” He snapped clenching his teeth. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because I don’t need it!” She roared back then, his eyes found her hands first, still dusted in the flour, “I don’t need you!” She added her eyes burning into his own, though he could not place them. “that is the problem with everyone, they want to _help_.” She spat the word, “but then they judge and they whisper and they don’t bother to _understand_.”

His eyes finally found her own. Furious spots of a stormy sky glaring down from high above. He could of seen her clearly if he was able to focus on anything else. But her eyes, so hateful, enraged, and so full of anguish. He was trapped by them.

“I am alone because the only one who understands is Toron. He is all I need. Not you, not the dwarves, not anyone!” Her words became choked as the storm in her gaze suddenly broke through, her eyes brimming and then spilling over.

He watched a tear fall, hitting a leaf before soaking into the ground below. When he lifted his gaze again he realized her own was gone. She was gone and he knew deep down that she was not returning again.

He turned away folding his arms within his robes, her eyes remained burned into his memory. So conflicted at those last heartbeats. Furious, passionate, confused, and afraid so very afraid and in so very much pain. He cursed his own anger for setting off her own, for breaking the unspoken rule to not look for her, to not face her. Now another elf, another life, was lost to the cruelty of this world.

“I just wanted to help you.”


	8. Chickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little one the trees! Toron bellowed trying to pull his head back against her insistent tugging.
> 
> “We have better chance with a bear than a colony of goblins!” Nim said relaxing her grip so that Toron could straiten his neck again. “You are faster than any creature I know, if we exhaust him he will give up.”
> 
> That is not a normal bear. Toron tossed his head back to stare at the monster’s massive maw, which could easily bite his little one in two if it wished.
> 
> “And you are not a normal stag!” She retorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lovely reader for the encouragement to help me get this chapter done. After talking to you I felt the need to get it done, you've all waited long enough. Enjoy!

“I already fed the chickens.”

Nim grabbed a fistful of feed and tossed it out despite his words and then did it again if only to be spiteful. The great man glared and took the bag of feed away, not that it was much of a fight. He stared down at her waiting for a response but when she gave none he turned away with a growl and matched back towards the house.

“How about you do something useful and make sure the horses have hay.” He called before the door shut behind him.

Nim started for the stables were the horses were currently trotting around each other in a playful dance. Nim tucked herself into the building beside the corral and got to work pulling the bales out into the open and cutting the ties free from around them. The horses whinnied and crowded against the fence as Nim tossed them over.

“Why are you so troubled?” For one so large Beorn was rather good at being silent, and far more kind than he liked to appear. “It is fresh.” He added holding out a bowl to Nim with a large chunk of honeycomb inside it.

“Thank you.”

Nim sucked at the comb and tried to figure a way to put her emotions into words. “Why can’t elves leave well enough alone? Why must they know things, of people of-“

“They are being of curiosity, like cats.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Nim growled holding the comb out to a horse and allowing it to eat it.

“But it was the wisdom that brought it back. What is the harm in him knowing your face? You have known him far longer than I have known you.”

“It’s not the same it-“

“Fear.” Beorn cut in grabbing another bale and tossing it into the corral for the horses to graze on. “You are afra-“

“I am not afraid of him!”

“I never thought you were.” Beorn drew away from the fencing, “But that does not mean you are not afraid of something.” He ruffled the elf’s hair, “If you wish to stop being afraid then you should become a bear.”

Nim couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his words. The topic of her putting herself under some enchantment to become a beast had been a topic of discussion for many years. He always came up with a logical reason to being an animal, but Nim had figured out long ago that he simply wanted a companion. It is true that bears live most of their lives alone, but still found companion ship in one another from time to time. The great skin changer was lonely, though he was a tad bit to prideful to admit it.

“I wouldn’t be a skin changer I would simply be under a spell, magic like that is tricky and dangerous. I could be stuck as a bear forever.” Nim followed after the great man as he headed for the hall with which he called home. “I could possibly even lose my conscious mind.”

“Then I will befriend you as I have done all my other companions. Besides I doubt Toron would allow you to make a mistake so disastrous.” He held the door open for Nim before slipping in behind her and starting for the kitchen.

“I’d feel too exposed as a creature of the wild.” Nim rubbed her arm her finger tracing a faint line of raised flesh. It was a quick touch but the bear man had seen it. His gaze flicked to the chain still locked around his wrist.

“There is no same in a past that-“

“Do not make me travel to the mortal village to find lodgings for the winter Beorn.” Nim dropped her gaze as the man stared down at her with disapproving eyes. Though Nim would call them friends he was still a creature of pride and disliked any forms of disrespect. It made her feel shameful, as if she had cut down a tree older than herself.

“I’m going to feed the chickens.” Nim turned away and grabbed for the bag of seed left at the side of the door. Trying to appear small and unnoticeable as she slipped out the door as quickly and quietly as possible. She had made it all the way down to the hens and even had a handful of seed before she caught sight of the feed already being pecked by the birds. She waited for Beorn to shout for her to do something useful or leave the chickens be.

The door to the home remained closed and Beorn’s voice never called out. So Nim remained outside watching the hens eat and bicker to one another. She wanted the wind to blow to show her where to go, to tell her it was okay to go.

The air remained as still as Beorn’s door.

Both she and the bear man had pushed boundaries today. Such things would have sent Nim moving on if it had been any other but the great skin changer. He was always more animal than man, and Nim had a fondness for creatures far more forgiving than her fondness for people. She turned away from the hens and went inside.

*****

“Have we lost them Toron?” Nim let out a burst of laughter as the great stag bounded through the trees.

_We will if you stop howling._ The stag scolded but his tone was playful. He even jumped a bit higher than necessary over a log to jostle the elf upon his back.

Nim grinned and grabbed at the lowest branch of his antler and pulled herself so she stood upon his back.   She moved and swayed with the stag’s head, secure upon his back as well as if she had been tied to it. The stag knew it as well as he moved through the clawing branches of the trees. So long as her grip remained firm she would never fall from his back.

Toron knew the elves had stopped their chase long ago but did not dare slow until he broke through the line of the trees into the great clearing. He burst through into the long grass at a full gallop slowing to a trot as he looked behind himself. He breathed heavily feeling the clear air refresh his lungs along with his Little one’s. She breathed just as heavily as himself, the exertion to avoid the ruthless elves feeding through their link and into the elf. She shifted to rest upon her knees pressing her head against his strong neck.

She shifted again to slide off when the stag swung his head to keep her on. He stared into the trees behind them ears perked forward as he listened. Nim focused as well her eyes far better in the dimming light than his own. Something larger loomed in the trees were they had just been. Nim felt something quicken in her blood her tongue nearly tasting the adrenaline.

“Toron, run.” Nim whispered

The stag reared and charged forward just as a massive bear broke through the trees and gave chase. He roared as he thundered forward, surprisingly quick for something so massive. Toron spurred himself forward leaping this way and that to keep his flank away from its massive claws. They just needed to make it to the trees and they had a chance of escaping through the thick trunks. Toron had just past the old barn that resided in the middle of the field when Nim suddenly jerked grabbing hold of one side of his antlers forcing him to curve as he moved.

_Little one the trees!_ Toron bellowed trying to pull his head back against her insistent tugging.

“We have better chance with a bear than a colony of goblins!” Nim said relaxing her grip so that Toron could straiten his neck again. “You are faster than any creature I know, if we exhaust him he will give up.”

_That is not a normal bear._ Toron tossed his head back to stare at the monster’s massive maw, which could easily bite his little one in two if it wished.

“And you are not a normal stag!” She retorted.

The stag honked a protest but did not say anymore as he circled around the front of the house and headed back the way they came. A beast as large as that one could not remain at this pace for long, where as he could go on for a day without rest. He made two more laps before he felt Nim shift. Her hand remained firm on one antler as she shifted to sit reverse on him. Keeping the great bear in her sight.

They continued their waiting game well into the night lapping the barn again and again. Each time Nim watched it realizing that the barn was not a barn, but a home. There was a garden in full bloom as well as a stack of fresh firewood against the back wall. A few times she was even sure she saw movement within its windows.

“Toron, I don’t believe this is just a bear.”

Before the stag could retort her hand slackened on his antler. He jerked trying to keep her on but the elf was quick sliding from his back and hitting the ground in a roll. Toron cried out in horror skidding to a stop and nearly tumbling himself as he tore up the ground.

The bear on the other hand had kept his pace and within a breath was looming above Nim. He shoved himself up onto his hind legs and let out a roar that forced Nim to close her eyes. Toron was charging back towards her when Nim spoke.

“My name is Nimineth, I’m sorry we startled you.”

The bear snorted but dropped to all fours. He tilted his head one way and then the other taking in Nim with his left and then right eye. She held out her hand which he growled at, but did not attack. Toron even slowed then watching the exchange. He held his head proudly when the bear lifted his gaze to him.

“May we borrow a room to stay in for the evening? I can pay you quit handsomely if you like.”

The bear refocused on her nostrils flaring before he turned around and began to amble away from the two. Nim got up ignoring the angry shove that Toron gave her. Her hand returned to his antler and he pulled her onto his back and headed for the great home.

Inside Nim darted about lighting candles and cuddling the dogs that ran about the great building. Toron wondered towards the back were several ponies and a few cows stood grazing on troughs of hay. Nim shifted to the hearth and started a fire there before she curled onto a large chair and made herself comfortable.

When morning finally came and the owner of the great home finally walked in he seemed a bit startled to see Nim hauling the great kettle towards the fire. He glared at her for a long minute, though Nim continued hanging up the kettle and adding more wood to the fire.

“Oatmeal okay?”

“What are you doing here?” He growled, “I did not invite you into my home.”

“Well . . . You did chase Toron and I for most of the night, we needed rest. I’ll pay you for everything I have used.”

“I don’t want your money, get out.” He opened the door his gaze never leaving her, a predator prepared to strike.

“Then I will work for it.” Nim motioned towards the back of the hall, “I put fresh hay down for your ponies, and got them some oats. I got some vegetable from your garden as well.”

His eyes trailed from the horses to the basket of vegetables and then finally back to Nim. “Go feed the chickens. I will finish breakfast.” He rumbled. Nim jumped to her feet and nodded. “Feed is by the door. Gather the eggs.” He added finally turning away from her.

Nim grinned a bit causing him to look at her with a deep frown, “I already fed the chickens.”

***********

“Are you done sulking now?” Beorn growled lifting his gaze from a young colt who he was bottle feeding. “Born last night, I lost the mother. She was a very old mare. He is very weak.”

Nim walked around the little creature and gently brushed its spiked mane from around his neck. “You will be strong.” Nim whispered into the colt’s ear, “The strongest of the herd. You just need to drink up and never give up alright.”

The colt whinnied and began to eagerly suck at the bottle Beorn held. Nim smiled and stood bowing her head as Beorn gave her a grateful nod. “Thank you, his mother was very dear to me.” Beorn stroked the colt’s cheek. “He looks just like her, would you give him a name?”

“Tuon.” Nim said at once, “It means strength.”

Nim spent the day with the colt trotting at either her’s or Beorn’s heels, unwilling to be alone for a minute. Nim coddled the creature while Beorn was stern ordering away the colt when he got too far under foot. By the evening the colt had curled up on the floor exhausted. Nim curled around him nibbling at the vegetable stew Beorn had made.

“I am going out to patrol the forest.” Beorn set his bowl down and stood heading for the door. “Let no one in. I have smelt something odd on the wind.” He mumbled and was gone before Nim could say anything else.

For the rest of the evening Nim remained by the fire with Toron and the colt. She made a little nest of the furs and blankets Beorn had throughout the house. Nim carefully toasted bread over the fire and spread honeycomb on it and nibbled at it. By the time the moon was high Nim dozed leaning against Toron.

She heard Beorn roar close to the house and jerked up. His roar was followed by shouting and the door flying open. Toron froze and Nim ducked behind him grabbing for the dagger secured at her hip. Beorn bellowed trying to force the door open as dozens of hands forced it shut.

“What is that?!” One voice gasped

“That . . . was our host.” The tallest of the group stated.

“And you are obviously not welcome.” Nim stood up from behind Toron her dagger at the ready.


	9. Splash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hush Toron.” Nim swatted at him. “We need . . .” Nim trailed off, “We need . . . “She repeated distantly. Her eyes trailed over the trees in the distance, “T-Toron did you . . . did you see that?”

 

The dwarves were up in arms at once.  They drew close together and lifted their weapons with shouts of challenge.  Nim gripped the blade in her hand tighter.  She kept to the shadows, allowing only her blade to reflect the light.  She had not missed the wizard who remained towards the back.  Why had he come?  Why had he brought so many dwarves?

“You are not to be here, the owner of this land is not fond of dwarves.”

“You always seemed quite partial to them.” The wizard spoke up stepping into the light a bit more.  “You used to refuse to aim a weapon unless you planned to you use it.”  He added hobbling a bit closer.  “So unless you plan to kill . . . “

“Shut up!”  Nim snapped, his words had stuck a cord that Nim did not realize she had.  “Beorn would not welcome any of you!”

“I’d like to see you try!” I balding dwarf jabbed a massive hammer at her. 

 _Little one said, get out._   Toron stood then, making his presence known to the dwarves.  _So I suggest you do as she said._   He shook his antlers and ducked them towards the dwarves.

The dwarves suddenly scrunched closer towards the stag preparing for his attack.  They shifted trying to appear bigger like a frightened cat before a dog.  Toron snorted digging his hooves into the wood and creating shallow ruts.  The air spiked with tension and Nim gripped the blade tighter.

“Toron?”

The voice caught all off guard.  Toron lifted his head and Nim dropped her bade.  Nim focused on the dwarves, the grey of the night clearing into shades of purple.  Her heart stilled and she dropped from the table.  Nim tilted her head for a moment before she spun around and grabbed for a book of matches and light a group of candles.  She pulled a candle from its holder and handed it to Toron who lit several more around the room. 

“Forgive me, I had to make sure.”  Nim took her blade from the table and carefully tucked it back into its holster.  “I am sorry for my rudeness.  It has been a long time . . . Fili, Kili.”

Two dwarves shoved forward eyes wide with shock.  They had grown so much since she had seen them last.  Still, in her eyes they were still the small boy’s she knew.  She dropped to her knees in one smooth motion had both dwarves in her arms.  She put them at arm’s length and took them in. 

Kili’s hair was still a mess of black, unmanageable and forever tangled.  His face had aged but was still young, his eyes as bright and mischievous just as she remembered, just like his mother.  Fili on the other hand, had his mess of gold tamed into braids, face chiseled with age, eyes prideful but warm.  She had been told that he looked like his father. 

“You kept my beads.” Nim took hold of a braid tucked behind his ear, reveling a gold bead holding the strands of hair together.  The ruins seemed to dance across the gold, untranslatable, even to Nim. “That makes me deeply happy, Kili do you still have your-?”

Kili lifted the blade, the etching of an owl resting on the hilt of the blade.  Nim pulled them both into another tight hug before stepping back.  The rest of the dwarves stood awkwardly unsure of how to react to the elf who spoke so casually with the two.  Nim stood then and bowed.

“Mae g’ovannen!  Gi nathlam hi.”  She bowed once more “Ah, Jemut men.”  The dwarves all looked stunned at the dwarvish words, “Vemu.” She bowed again, “It is wonderful to meet you all.” She added in the common tongue. 

“How dare you speak our words, you have no right to-“

“Thorin, let us put such angers of the past aside for the moment.”  Gandalf cut in before Thorin could go any farther.  “She has welcomed us in this home, we should be grateful.”  Nim nodded and turned away from the group. 

“I suppose you may rest here for a time; I can speak to Beorn later tonight.  Is there anything you need at the moment?”

Nim threw her hands up when the crowd of dwarves began making demands filling the room with their loud voices.  Her hand pressed into her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut.  It was the one thing she had never gotten used to with dwarves; how loud they could be.  It wasn’t the normal hustle and bustle of the caverns of time before, it was not the chorus of the dining hall after several good pints of ale.  This tore at her ears, the disjoined demands and voices. 

“Shut up!” Nim shouted dropping her hands, “I cannot think with all of you shouting! None of you are on the verge of death so I suggest you quiet yourselves and ask one at a time.” 

“Is it just me, or did she sound like Lady Dis?”  A balding dwarf whispered to another.

“Food . . .” A voice spoke up with a near desperate tone, “A good meal . . . I-I think would be good f-for everyone.”

Nim tilted her head at the hobbit that stepped forward in a tattered waist coat with missing buttons.  He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and shuffled back again.  Though he nearly jumped forward when a large dog trotted up with a plate, a stack of biscuits on top. He looked to Nim, who nodded and he quickly snatched two up.  Within a second the plate was empty as the dwarves all grabbed one.  Nim tanked the dog, who trotted off, and climbed onto the massive counters of the kitchen to gather some fruit. 

“Meat?”  It was Kili who lifted his head hopefully.

“Sadly no, Beorn does not eat meat.  He does have hens so we can have eggs in the morning.”

Nim watched the group as they ate moving here and there to refill empty plates, or glasses.  Their once screeching voice had become the rough melody she had known before.  Something within her began to hum and she allowed her lips to follow suit.  It was a tune she had come to learn in the mountain.  Kili grinned at her and started to sing the lyrics in his native tongue, followed quickly by Fili.  Nim spun and couldn’t help her laughter as most of the dwarves joined into the song.  Thorin and the balding dwarf being some of the few that remained silent.  Nim had made it all the way to where Gandalf sat before her mood soured once more at the sight of him. 

“Come now, can we not put the old behind us?”  He sighed, his eyes held an endless depth of pity.

“Ba.”  Nim said curtly, “I know that look, and I know what you wish to discuss, and I can promise you I do not want to.”  She turned away before Gandalf could say another word and finished out the tune with the rest of the dwarves.

By the time their bellies were full and a few had bathed they settled into the hay.  Nim divvied out blankets and a few stuffed cushions she could find about the house.  The dwarves tried not to complain as dogs and other animals wormed their ways between them.  Nim settled into her usual place, a hammock she had crafted herself.  She rolled into it and pushed it so she swayed above them all.

“Nim, there is no time to sleep!” Fili tossed a clod of dirt up at her.  She tossed the crumbled back, “There is so much we have to discuss.”  He pleaded.  Nim relented and dropped from her bed and settled into the hay. 

“Yes, where did you go after you left?”  Kili asked shrinking once more into a child in Nim’s gaze.  His eyes wide and big as they were so far back when she recounted tales of her travels.  Even Fili perked up, though still angry with her, not even he could deny his curiosity.

“Here and there.”  Nim began getting comfortable.

When she offered no more Kili let out an exasperated sigh, “Come on Nim!  You can’t tell me in the last fifty some odd years that you have been shacked up in here.”

Nim tilted her head, fifty years that was how long they had been apart.  She knew it was a great gap of time, nearly a quarter of their lifetimes.  Dwarves only lived to be around two hundred or so.  A hundred and fifty years would be all they really had left, so short a time for an elf.  A blink of an eye in retrospect to her endless lifespan, maybe even just a flicker of an eye. 

“Nim?”

“I saw your home.”  Nim said without really thinking, her words caught the attention of every dwarf in the room.  “Not up close, but I saw it.  I was traveling through the Ered Mithrin, the grey mountains. “

 _She was looking for dragons in the withered heath_.  Toron spoke up from where he lay with the young colt.  _Despite me telling that the few lesser dragons that remained were deep asleep, she insisted._

“The place has grown green again.”  Nim added ignoring the stag’s scornful tone, “It is quite beautiful, it looks nearly untouched.  Renewed even.”

“But the mountain Nim!” Kili cut in and Nim laughed waving away his enthusiasm. 

“Erebor was as powerful as I remembered it to be.  It seemed asleep, waiting for one to return and relight the forges.”  The dwarves shared a knowing look, “I wanted to go closer, explore the mountain but I could not bring my feet any closer than I had come. I may rejoice in all things of this world but not even I could console such a great creature.” 

“Tell them of your time within Dale.” Kili pushed ignoring the mournful silence Nim had gone into, “Of Erebor.”

“You walked through the mountain?” A dwarf with braided hair that stuck out at the sides suddenly spoke.  Now the dwarves, who had been trying to look indifferent, turned to stare.  “The true halls of Erebor?” 

“Yes, though I’m sure it was before you were all born.”  Nim shifted tilting back and reaching out for Toron.  The stag already had her little bag and dropped it into her waiting hands.  “It has been a long time since I spoke of the mountain and I need a bit of a reminder.”  She spoke apologetically pulling a worn journal from the bag and flipping through the pages.

 Endless lists of names, places, and things lined the pages.  At the top of each yellowing bit of parchment was a date.  She took her time flipping through the pages, looking for the one she needed most.  Many of the pages were no longer attached and a few fluttered out as she turned. Others had obviously been added in from other things.  Most of the parchment was the common pressed plant fiber.  In places though were pages were made of pressed dried animal skin, some looking more like leather for boots while others looked like fresh lamb’s skin.  The pages she paused on though was taken from a torn bit of map.  The back reflecting some stretch of forest.  She smiled when she saw it. 

“I only really browsed the market within the mountain.  I enjoyed the shops and the people, I loved listening to the stories.  I tried time and time again to get within the mines to look they wouldn’t allow me.  A dwarf I knew did grant me this.”  Nim reached into the bag again and pulled free a rough uncut gem. It wasn’t large though it was heavy.  The deep blue of the gem shining through the rough useless stone that encrusted most of it.

“You never showed us that!” Fili gasped reaching for it.  Nim curled her fingers around it before the dwarf could lay a hand upon it. 

“Because it is far older than even your white haired friend over there. I’m sure.”  She smiled bringing the stone close, “she was a wee thing, the one who gave me this.  A child hardly grown into her own beard.  Still managed to get me this from the mines though.  One of but a few gems I do not part with.” 

“The jewel belongs to the mountain.”  Thorin spoke up. 

“The jewel belongs to me and if you wish to take it from me then try it.”  Nim snapped back a challenge in her eyes.  “I may be a traveler but I am no thief.”  She added dropping the stone back into her bag.  Her eyes trailed over the group landing on the boys at the end.  “Though I’m sure a journey this far from home has drained your resources.” 

“We don’t need your handouts.” A balding dwarf snapped, “We’ve managed just fine.”  He growled.

“Not a hand out, a gift.” Nim said drawing out a small bag, “your guide, must have assumed this place to be a resting place.  Which it cannot, nor is the forest after very friendly.  Still if you can push through it, there is a little village where you can supply.”

Nim handed the bag to Kili.  “Prepare yourselves some beds.  I am going to try and keep Beorn out and about, he doesn’t always stay out all night.  With the new colt I doubt he will, less given the proper distraction.” 

“And what may that be lass?” The white haired dwarf asked.  “A beast like that, would bite you in two.”

“That is why he won’t bite me.”  Nim slung her little bag across Toron’s back before pulling herself up.  “Do not go out no matter what until I return.” Nim added while Toron flipped the lock off the large door, “And lock this behind you, just in case.” 

The dwarves surged trying to stop her as the two charged out.  The stag twisted out of their grasp and was out of the courtyard.  She turned back and motioned for the door to be shut, the dwarves did not argue.  As the lock slid into place the great beast ambled out into the open field.  The dwarves swarmed around the window to stare out.

Toron trotted around facing the great bear.  The two squared off for a moment before the bear swiped a massive paw.  Toron leapt out of the way and bleated at the bear, dancing in and out of his reach.  Finally, the bear stood upon his back legs and bellowed.  Toron let out his own deep cry before he dashed away, the bear gave chase.  Nim shifted so she was leaning against Toron’s strong neck.  The bear bellowed and Nim mimicked the sound, though at a higher tone. 

“Come away from the door now, Nimineth, though different, is no fool.  She can handle Beorn, I am sure.” Gandalf urged them away, “There isn’t much we can do until the sun rises anyway.”

  **************

By sunrise Nim returned, waking the dwarves with the smell of cooking eggs and heady tea.  The sound of wood chopping the only thing disturbing the sizzling.  When more awoke she went to a small brick oven in the corner and pulled the door open.  At once the space was filled with the warm scent of fresh bread. 

“Don’t make yourself too comfortable.”  Nim said pulling plates from a cupboard.  “You need to introduce yourself to Beorn.  He knows you are here, though best not to go out all at once.”  She added, “Breakfast will be ready when you return.” 

The dwarves flustered around the door unwilling to be the first to go out.  One remained behind, trying to sneakily steal a bit of honey comb.  Nim thought about slapping his hand with her spoon but instead pierced him with a look.  The man froze a flush crawling across his cheeks. 

“You are not a dwarf.”

“No, I am not.” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” He held out his hand to Nim who didn’t take it, “Right, then . . . will you be needing any help?”

“What is a hobbit doing on a journey like this? Reclaiming their homeland what stake do you have in this?”

“Thorin told us not to speak to you about our travels.” Bilbo ducked his head when Nim gave him another look. 

“Thorin is a melting bit of iron that has remained in the bellows far too long.” Nim said glaring at the leader as he worked his way out, the last of the group.  “Though it is that heat that will get him through such trials.  Here, set the table.” Nim motioned to a bunch of plates. 

“Make sure to make extra, you should have seen what they did to my pantry.” Bilbo grumbled crawling onto the benches to place the plates on the massive table.  “It’ll take me months to refill it!” He complained. 

“Little fawn! Why are these dwarves in my home?” Beorn banged into the house, followed by the slightly terrified dwarves.  “We are not a squatters’ house.”  He grumbled.

“Like I was to throw them out with you roaming the trees.”  Nim scoffed, “give them a chance Beorn, I know a couple of the dwarves here.  They are good people.”

“They are dwarves.”  Beorn growled

“Please Beorn, they have lost everything and now they are trying to take it back. This may be their only chance to do it.” 

Beorn glowered at the elf for a long time before he rumbled a sigh and took a seat at the table.  Nim smiled fondly at him before placing a plate before him.  She motioned to Bilbo to start filling plates before she grabbed herself a sweet roll.

“You won’t be joining us?” Kili asked, deflated.

“There are choirs to be done, and I know you have quite the story to tell Beorn.  I suggest you remain upfront and honest about everything.”  Nim bowed her head a bit in farewell before slipping out the door.

 _Is it wise to leave the dwarves with the bear?_ Toron asked trotting ahead to toss a bale of hay over the railing before Nim could do it.  Toron tossed another bale over the fencing.  _Though it may not be a shame for him to eat the oaken dwarf._

“Hush Toron.” Nim swatted at him.  “We need . . .” Nim trailed off, “We need . . . “She repeated distantly.  Her eyes trailed over the trees in the distance, “t-Toron did you . . . did you see that?”

Toron lifted his gaze.  He was overwhelmed with the sensations coming from Nim.  A sudden and intense need and longing.  She lifted her hand and motioned to a shimmer in the trees.  The jolt hit him fully a second after he caught it.  The overwhelming feeling of hope swelled in both of them.  Before he could utter a word Nim was already running.  He bounded after her scooping her up into his antlers without a faltered step.

They reached the trees before reality smashed into him.  His legs betrayed him and buckled below him.  He bucked to thrown Nim out of danger from his crashing form.  Whatever had been there was nothing more than a ghost.  The hopes for something that could never be was more painful than the original loss.  He rolled once dirt clinging to his coat.  His head throbbed where his antlers were yanked or pressed upon. 

 _Little one?_   He got his feet under him though he was disoriented, trying to reconcile his emotions that were a torrent in his mind. 

“Toron come on!”  Nim gasped grabbing at his antlers and trying to pull him up, “She’s run into the woods!”

_Little one . . . it is not-_

“It was _Her_.”  Nim stated ignoring her stag’s words.  “It was,” Her voice became quiet and desperate, “I saw Her face.”

 _It was not Her, Little one_.  Toron tried to sooth but his words only seemed to agitate her. 

“No you are wrong!  It was _Her_ , it has to be.  T-there was no body.”  When Toron did not look convinced Nim shoved herself away, “I will show you then!” She snapped.

Nim bolted before Toron could get another word.  He called for her, but she ignored him.  Toron struggled to his feet, but by the time he was moving she had long since disappeared.  He charged into the trees calling for the little elf.  He followed the scent of her skin before quickly realizing that it crisscrossed through the trees.  He slowed to a stop and bellowed for her.  He listened for a moment before he picked up of the subtle sounds of her movement.  He charged forward skidding to the stop before crashing into the river. 

 _Little one!_   Toron cried finding her high above, clinging to one of the trees.  _Please, you know the truth, return to me._   He pleaded, _I want her back as well, but she would not have returned without finding us._

Nim clung to the great tree before she looked down.  Even from so far away, Toron could see she was crying.  He walked to the base of the tree and reared up so his hooves rested on the heavy bark.  _Return to me Little one._

Nim nodded and pulled herself back to her feet.  The wind shook the tree and she reached up and grabbed the topmost branch.  She breathed for a moment waiting for the wind to pass.  She started for the trunk when something cracked.  Toron bellowed as Nim was now dangling, the branch she once stood on now swept away by the river.  Nim seemed unfrighten though as she pulled her legs up to wrap around the branch above her.  She scooted all the way to the trunk before the next crack sounded.

Toron could only watch as Nim crashed down desperately trying to grab branches as she fell.  She smashed into several branches at some point her struggling ceased as her head cracked against the trunk.  She was crushed into another branch before she hit open air.  The water had her in its grasp and was yanking her below. 

 _MOTHER!_   Toron dived without thinking digging his hooves into the soil before struggling towards her quickly disappearing form.  Toron tried to keep his footing as he rushed but when he felt one hoof break free he knew there was no way to pull back.

Water swallowed him as if he was no more than a twig.  Again and again he was crushed against stones hidden beneath the foamy waters.  He forced his head up when he could, bellowing and praying that one of the patrols were out.  He could no longer see Nim, could no longer feel her as he once did.  He hit another stone feeling his skin rupture at the force.  He was quickly leeched of his energy with the deep wound bleeding freely.  His head sunk below the surface again feeling darkness pull him away.

  **************

It was only fitting that he loses his little one in a river.  He did find her in one anyway.  He could not recall everything, so much time had passed, but he remembered the feelings.  Gripping fear as he fled from something, the deep sensation that someone was dead.  Exhaustion and desperation as he spent endless days alone and lost.  He was hardly a fawn at this time, spots still clear on his back.  Finally, there was the feeling of hopelessness.  He was going to die and no matter what he did he could do little more but continue to walk and wait for the end.

Then everything becomes clear.  Breaking through the bushes and finding her.  He thought she was dead at first, half out of the water and breathless.  Something told him to run but another, larger portion decided he needed to see if she lived.  He crept across the open space, darting behind any little shrub whenever he could.  It could have taken him hours to cross the little space with how slow he went.  He was almost to her when she moved.

A sudden jerk, a desperate gasp for air.  Toron froze as her hands clawed her the rest of the way out.  There was no way she could be alive, even after being washed down river she was coated in blood.  Yet there she was, and she was smiling.  Her eyes had found his and she had smiled looking so generally happy.  He crept a bit closer and sniffed a dirt covered hand.  Then her hand was scratching behind his ears. 

“Good little fawn, I thought I was doomed, and then you came.”  Her hand fell, “my little guardian.” She murmured. 

Toron could not leave her side after that, He sat watch as she slept and even gathered a small pile of sticks so she could create a fire.  From that moment he had become her guardian and never had stopped.

  *************

He had failed her now though, for so many centuries he was stood by her side.  Protected her, cared for her.  His little one, his mother.  He hoped that wherever then ended up they would be together. The thought of spending any amount of time without her was agonizing, even if the afterlife was to be pleasant.  He’d rather go through hell than remain without his little one.

He danced on the edge of consciousness willing himself to be taken away by the blissful dark.  He wanted to be there to greet his little one when she crossed over.  To show that she would be okay. Finally, finally he felt himself drift away.  The feeling of the water slipped away from him, the need for breath receded.  He sagged and let himself go. 

_Splash_

Hands grabbed at him, pulling him from his body and into the air.  It filled his lungs and he flailed startled by the sudden heaviness of his body.  Wasn’t everything to be light in the next realm?  Maybe if he stopped fighting, maybe a piece of his soul clung to his body.  He sagged against the hands letting them pull him away.

As he felt his body touch the earth he felt desperate for sleep.  Nim would be alright for a few moments, she was brave and strong.  She would wait for him, and then they could find peace together. Finally, there would be peace for his little one.

That is what they needed. . .

Peace. . .

Sleep. . .

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think! Comments, no matter how small, make me so happy and make me feel so inspired.


	10. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You were looking for me.”
> 
> Her voice caught him off guard and he blinked pulling himself to reality. He stood just outside the healer’s den, a curtain was drawn across the farthest bed. Her fingers, now coated in drying blood, peeked out from around the edge of the fabric. It was a mockery of their previous times together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elien you are in this chapter! Though only briefly, you will come up again though!

 

Shouting disturbed Thranduil’s brooding.  He looked up from the crack in the wall he was staring at.  He had been lost in thought for the last few days, ever since his Ghost left his woods.  They seemed darker, empty almost.  He leaned back into his throne as his guard rushed in, many soaked to the bone. 

“Legolas!”

One of the guard stopped and darted over to him.  Hair clung to his face and neck, his clothes sticking to his body.  He looked winded for once, eyes bright and full of worry.  “Hir Vuin.” He bowed a bit to the Elven lord. 

“Ionneg.” Thranduil nodded to his son.  “What is the commotion?”  He looked uninterestedly towards the receding profession of elves, now noticing another tucking into the arms of another.  “Has there been an attack?” He enquired.

“No, at least we do not believe so, Elien was the one who spotted her.  She dove in initially while I and the others followed after.”   Legolas looked towards the path where the rest of his party had disappeared.  “No one knows who she is.”  He added worry creeping into his voice.  “She is not from out lands, nor of Rivendell.  She must have come from another branch of our kind.”

“An unknown Elf, is she a youngling?” Thranduil tilted forward curiosity coloring his voice. 

“No, she looks fully matured.”  Legolas drew a hand through his hair.  “I do not understand, she look unharmed but she was unconscious in the river.”  He shook his head. 

“Go, keep an eye on her, and alert me when she awakens.”  Thranduil made a dismissive gesture and leaned back, showing he was done with the conversation.  His son slipped away towards the healing cave. 

He hummed to himself wondering who the mysterious elf was.  Perhaps a messenger?  Though her clothes were unlike any his son had apparently seen.  Maybe they had reached troubles and had gathered different clothing?  Why would they come here?  It must have been important if they were sending someone in person.  Had they finally listened to his truths of gathering orcs?  Those across the misty mountains had little contact with the lands Thranduil had known all his life.  They had never noticed the change in the land.  The darkness that took away all but a small portion of his beautiful forest.  The chance was slim as most thought him overly frightened since the loss of his father during the final battle.

He thought back to the battle which had stolen his father away from him and forced him into a roll he did not feel ready for.  He had not even learned that he had lost his farther until the day after.  Within a handful of minutes he lost his only family and gain an army and a kingdom, none of which he was ready for.  He did his job though, as he had done up until . . . until _Her_.  She had brought light into his life again.  Fresh from the Valor to help rebuild after everything had been lost.  He had only been with her for a short time before they had to be separated; him to return his people home and her to continue rebuilding. 

He had proposed to her before they had separated, unable the bear the thought of them separating without knowing they would be rejoined again.  She had accepted and he was able to separate from her.  They had spent so many wonderful years together, had birth his brilliant son, and then . . . and then she was gone.  In a blaze of fire that had left nothing but ash.   Once more his life was reduced to duty, to his job.  The only reason he remain in the land was for his son’s sake, and his mother’s wishes.  _She_ had wanted him to grow up in middle earth, learn the love the world with all its fault.  Legolas had learned them and more, he seemed just as disillusioned with it as he was. He-

A crash yanked him from his thoughts.  Chaos had erupted around him while he was absent.  Guards were all about the place searching for something, or rather someone.  He stood at once a hand going to his blade.

“Ada, The elf . . . she’s gone.”  Legolas jogged up, “I left the room for but a breath and she was gone.  She should hardly be able to walk, let alone disappear.” 

“Find her, she must not be in her right mind.  A frightened anything can be dangerous.”

Legolas disappeared and Thranduil stepped down from his throne.  Just as he started for another room to help in the search another came rushing up.  At first he believed it to be another of his own, only to turn and realize it to be the elf everyone was not searching for. 

Her clothes still clung to her, part of it cut as if one of the healers had tried to remove it to see her wounds.  Grey muddied hair was tangled into knots around her face.  Part of her face was obscured by blood, weeping from a wound tucked below the knots.  Within was scrapped hand there was a delicate blade.  Her head tilted towards the great doorway which was now visible, a doorway that he now blocked.  She took a step forward lifting the blade. 

Any threat she was going to voice was cut off as guards rushed towards then, his son in the lead.  The elf stumbled and darted towards a pillar.  Unlike any elf he had seen before Thranduil watched the Elf flawlessly climb the smoothed stone.  She had nearly reached the natural netting of the roots above when one of her arms gave out.  Her body teetered dangerously before she allowed herself to slide down.  She turned and pressed her back into the pillar, the little blade still tight in her grasp. 

“Be at peace, we are here to help.”  Tauriel stepped forward, hands out beseechingly, a rare gentle look crossing her face.  “You are in no danger here.”  She reached to touch the elf.

She reacted quickly that little blade moving with deadly precision and creating a thick cut across his leader of the guard.  Tauriel jerked her hand back, pressing the wound into the thick wool of her tunic to stem the bleeding.  The attacked weakened the frightened elf as she sagged against the pillar.  Her free arm clinging to the pillar to keep her upright.  Tauriel tried again and again the strange elf sliced at her hand.

Why could she not see they were they to help?  They were her kin! Why did she look upon his subjects as if she were faced with a hoard of orcs?  Thranduil stepped forward after Tauriel’s third try and drew is blade, he was tired of this growing game.  As he pointed the tip of the sword at her is hand tremored and he nearly dropped the blade.  He did not expect to see what he saw before him.

Two eyes, two little raging storms that burned into his flesh.  His little ghost, it was her in the flesh, visible to him.  He wanted to look at her, learn the face of the elf who had haunted his forest for so many decades.  His eyes were trapped again by her own.  Before him the furious storm of her eyes seemed to settle into a dreary rain. 

Her eyes spilled over as she slid to her knees.  “Thranduil, I am a ghost no longer.”  Her eyes fluttered and Thranduil dashed forward to catch her before she fell to the ground. 

“Do you know her father?” Legolas asked taking the unconscious elf from his arms. 

“No, but she knows me.”  Thranduil motioned for him to return the elf to the medical room.  “If she awakens and becomes distressed call for me.  Any more excursions like this one may lead to her demise.”  Legolas nodded and left along with the other elves. 

Thranduil turned and returned to his throne, then just as quickly got up from it.  He paced unable to settle his mind racing.  His ghost was here, the little creature who had haunted his woods for nearly a century was not within in halls.  When she had left the days prior he had realized that he would never see her again.  The delicate understanding between them had been shattered with his carelessness.  He knew at the time that what he was saying was not what she wanted to hear.  She had made a point to keep herself hidden, had told him that he would never know her.  He had demanded all that she had forbade and he was working to accept his foolishness.  Then she was there, stormy eyes thundering beneath the blood.  So hurt and broken and yet so resistant to aid.

“You were looking for me.”

Her voice caught him off guard and he blinked pulling himself to reality.  He stood just outside the healer’s den, a curtain was drawn across the farthest bed.  Her fingers, now coated in drying blood, peeked out from around the edge of the fabric.  It was a mockery of their previous times together.

“Is there really any point in hiding anymore?”  He dared a few steps in and he watched as the hand gripped the fabric. 

“I always thought I was to be a ghost, to watch upon everyone around me.  You never let me watch, you always looked.  Looked for me no matter how impossible.  You watched me just as much as I watched you, and yet you knew nothing about me.”  She let out a small laugh that was quickly cut short with a cough.  “So imagine my surprise when you _looked_ at me and then _saw_ me.”  Her voice was raw, the water having stripped it most bare it seemed.

The hand relaxed and then yanked downward pulling the fabric from its line.  It fell into a puddle around her bed.  Despite her previous weakness she seemed alert.  She had a few bandages around her limbs but she wore the same ruined clothes he had seen her in.  A pile of clean ones lay at the foot of the bed though she showed no notice of them.  A pile of bandages lay in her covered lap. 

“Where are the healers?”

“I sent them away.”  She lifted a damp rag from the other side from the bed and began to carefully clean way some of the drying blood.  “I suppose I should introduce myself.”  Her eyes remained on her task moving from the rag to fresh gauze to wrap around her throat where a deep gash lay to the side.  “I am Nimineth, I prefer Nim though.”

“Nimineth-“

“Nim.”  She corrected lifting her gaze to him.  Her gaze was still stormy but somehow had an air of calm, most like a much needed rain storm than a thunder storm.  “Call me Nim.”

“Nim-“Thranduil paused to make sure she would not interrupt, “would it not be better for the healers to help you?”

“No.”  She dismissed securing the gauze before she drew a leg out from under the blanket and began to cover a few more wounds.  They would not become life threatening so long as she rested and would be gone within a few days though she prepared them like she was mortal. 

“Is there anything we can do to help you then?” 

“Find Toron.”  The name instantly brought the memory of the stag into his mind.  Though he had never heard his name uttered he knew by the sound of it that it belonged to him.  “I know he jumped into the water after me, but I don’t know if your elves pulled him free.”

“The rapids of the river are very strong.”  Thranduil hedged and quickly regretted it at the sharp look she shot him.  Like a freshly forged blade still red hot from the fires. 

Suddenly Thranduil had the feeling of not being alone and turned back to find the stag standing behind him.  His coat was dripping and muddied in some places, water plants hung along his antlers and yet he had never looked more majestic.  The stag stood heads taller than himself, and looked down upon the Elven lord as if he was no more than a beggar.

The stag only graced him with a short glance before he walked around him and towards the wounded elf.  He dropped her head into her lap and she hugged around his ears and antlers.  They seemed to speak without speaking and like that she was up tossing the blanket over his back. 

“You will catch a cold.”  She scolded rubbing the fabric to draw the water from his fur.  The stag gave no protest as she scrubbed until the blanket was sodden and she let it drop to the floor without much thought.  “You had me worried, it was very quiet.”  She hugged him tight again. 

The stag lifted his head then pulling the elf from her blankets till she was dangling and helpless.  Ever so gently the stag lifted his head impossibly higher and placed Nim upon his back.  She sagged against his neck.  Her body looking exhausted at the bare movements but her eyes bright and alive.  The stag had made it all the way out the doorway before Thranduil realized what was happening.

“You cannot go.” He turned reaching a hand out to grab at the stag, “Her injuries are far too great.  She will need time to rest, to heal.  You leave now you risk her bleeding out.”  He motioned to a new patch of brilliant red on her side.  The stag stared at it and then towards him.  “A few days’ time is all she will need.”  He added regaining his composure, shoving down the mild panic that was rising from deep inside himself.

Again, another unheard conversation played between the two.  Nim’s face scrunching in displeasure while the stag remained impassive before letting out a determined snort and lowering himself to the ground.  In retaliation Nim attempted to stand the stag aiding her with his antlers for only a moment before letting his head sink to the ground.  Nim nearly fell onto the stag, breathing hard.  The vibrant life in her eyes had dimmed, her eyes flickered and then she was gone again.

 _Care for her._   Thranduil did not expect the stag to speak, though animals that could were not unheard of they had long since fled from his lands.  He had always knew the stag was unique with its massive size and snow coat.  The stag carefully got to his hooves and returned Nimineth to the bed she had come from. 

 _I do not make this decision lightly, I distrust your kind as much as orcs.  She is weak, she needs aid before I can return her to more trustworthy healers._   The stag raised his head high glaring down at the king, he had no doubt that Toron would crush him if he felt the elf was in any harm.  The stag dragged the soaked blanket away before grabbing another to toss of the sleeping elf.  Then, if only to be spiteful, knocked over the remaining blankets and made his own little bed on the ground.  He lowered himself into the blankets and rested his head at the foot of Nim’s bed.

“May I ask y-“

 _She was chasing a ghost._ The stag cut in, dark eyes taking in the elven lord.  _Do not ask her of it, ever._

*****************************

Evening had long since fallen after Thranduil had left the healers den and decided to retire for the evening.  His kingdom was abuzz with the news of the unknown elf, throwing everyone off their daily schedules as they all tried to find information on her.  Thranduil had ignored the peppering of questions Legolas had sent him over the day.  It had gotten to the point where Thranduil ordered his son away and demanded his solitude to think. 

Thranduil gathered his robes in his arms, his hall too warm for them anymore.  He fell into his throne once more gathering the strength to walk to his quarters and avoid his subjects.  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.  The questions would not stop until they were given answers, but how could he give answers when he had none to give.  He had but a name, and only that would cause more questions to form.  Nim was just so secretive! She had even denied any healers to enter the den to care for her, her stag chasing them away from her on several occasions.

“Legolas if you ask me one more question about our new guest I promise you I have no qualms of locking my own son in the dungeon.” He spoke before he looked, hearing the footsteps across the stone while he figured out what to do. 

“Your son has long since gone to rest.” 

Thranduil sat up somewhat startled.  Nim stood, wrapped in a simple sleeping gown, feet bare and hair finally combed.  Bandages peeked out of her sleeves, collar, and bottom.  She stepped up to the base of the stairs and looked up at him.  Those aged eyes taking him in. 

“Why do you sit up there?” She asked finally.

“It is my throne.  It is where I govern my people, why?”

“It’s a chair.” Nim corrected, “A fancy chair granted, but a chair none the less.”  She tilted her head her eyes tracing the antlers that crowned his throne.

Thranduil scoffed though felt a bit of regret as she frowned up at him, “How can you govern your people if you can’t look at them?”

“I do look at them.”  Thranduil protested.

“You look _down_ at them, and they look _up_ at you.  But you do not look at them.”  Nim turned away and started back towards the healers den, “It just seems lonely to me.” She added.

“How do you know me?” Thranduil spoke up just before the elf disappeared. 

She tilted her head, just enough so one of her eyes met his.  They grew distant for a breath, seeming to see something that wasn’t really there before refocusing.  She turned on her heels and reached into a bag, one he had not noticed her wearing, and pulled out a small journal.  Thranduil stared at the waterlogged thing, all the miss matched pages and multicolored ink.  She walked back towards Thranduil pausing at the steps. 

“I don’t _know_ you, but I know _of_ you.”  She said finally after stopping at an older page.  “Many stories told by others about you.”

“Other elves?” Thranduil questioned

“Some.” She admitted as she turned through pages, “But they are few, most are from books I find in more wealthy towns.  I do not speak to elves often, you are but one of a handful that I have met through my days.”

“So you do not live with elves? Ever?”

“No.” She clipped the book shut, “I do not live anywhere to be honest.  I simply go from place to place, living off the land when I am far from towns and working for my meals when I am within them.” She tilted her head back taking in the roots that tangled above them, “In fact, this is the first elven town I’ve been within.”

“What about the land where you were born?” Thranduil questioned.

“I was born by a river.” Nim dismissed, “I do not like these questions . . . It has only ever been Toron and I, no more no less.  No elves, no towns, no others.”  Her tone was hard and she turned away showing she was most certainly done with the conversation. 

“I know.”  Thranduil agreed at her dislike of his interrogation, he had known of her distaste since he had first come across her. “It just seems lonely is all.” He sighed watching as she slipped away, left with again more questions and far fewer answers.

 


	11. Miniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Turns out,” Nim started, her voice sounded raw as if she had been screaming, “I am just an elf hiding under a sheet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaack. Forgive my absence I got a bit involved in a personal story involving lesbian pirates (One I hope to publish) and this one got placed to the side as I worked through the basic plot of things. I'm back now though and I wanted to make this chapter really good and I think I've done a decent job of it. let me know what you think or tell me off for going away again or whatever! Really anything!

“You’ve lost her again?”  Thranduil sighed pacing about the medical wing.  Her bed lay with nothing but a pile of bandages in her place.  “I asked a watch be placed on her.”

“We did, we left her alone for hardly a breath and then she was gone! We have looked everywhere.  Could she have left us?”

“I doubt it, some of her wounds were serious, even for one of our kind.  Her stag will not let her to travel far either.”

The healer let out an indignant huff.  Thranduil turned and arched an eyebrow at her.  “That beast! Criticizing every decision ever salve I placed on her wounds, even the bandages.”  She shook her head, annoyed.  “You think he would just heal her himself, if he was so wise in herbs.”

 _I lack the hands to do such nimble tasks._ The elves spun to face the great stag, now washed and snowy once more. _I know what MY little one needs to be well, I use your hands to get it done._

“Where is Nimineth?  She should be resting.”  He remained composed but could not help the small pleasure of being able to speak her name.  He used it any chance he could just to remind himself that she was there and he had not imagined all these years.

 _It’s hard to rest with flies buzzing about_.  The stag flicked an ear towards the healer, _she requires nourishment. Show me to your food stores._  

“Where I she at?” Thranduil persisted, “You asked for our aid and then sake her away from our healers.  If you want our aid then she must remain here.”

_She had been given the aid she needed for the time, when she needs them changed again I will return her. Do not make demands of me, elf. You’re a shiny beetle under my hoof and I have no complaint washing your crushed carcass off my hooves._

The stag turned and stalked away, Thranduil followed after having a feeling he was going to lead him to their guest.  His assumption was wrong of course, after the stag lead him deep into his kingdom her turned a corner and disappeared.  Thranduil puzzled where he stood staring down the hall, there were no other passages except for at the end.  There was no way to get from here to there so quickly without making any form of noise.  Yet the hall was empty and he had heard no increase in the stag’s footsteps. 

“What an odd creature you are. . . “He murmured to himself before turning away. 

****

 

He ended up finding Nim down in the cellars.  She had managed to coax several roots down so that she could dip her toes in the rushing water.  She laid, draped across the makeshift hammock her fingers dancing across the water in a distracted way.  She seemed unbothered that this was the same river that had nearly killed her the days prior.  The more he watched the more he realized her fingers were brushing against something solid.  He couldn’t quite make out the form as it was hidden below the frothing waters.  Her hand dipped down again and he made out fingers that raised ever so slightly out of the water.  Thranduil dared a step closer but whatever the creature was it took notice.  He watched its dark form slip away with the current. 

Ida watched seemingly mesmerized by the quickly disappearing form. She rolled tipping the roots dangerously.  Thranduil darted forward convinced she would follow the creature into the water,  he grabbed her left hand just as her fingers slackened on the root and yanked her onto the safety of the stone dock. 

“What were you thinking?” He hissed, “That River swept you away once it would gladly do it again.  You do not have the strength to fight such a current.” He scolded.

Nim blinked her gaze focusing once more, “I saw something- no, someone in the water.”  Her brow drew together, “I knew them, but I don’t know how.  They kept reaching out to me, trying to take my hand.  They needed my help . . . they needed my help and I was not there . . . I must help them.” 

Her gaze became glazed once more and she slipped from Thranduil’s grasp trying to get back towards the rushing water.  Thranduil wrapped his arms around her middle and drew her back.  Nim thrashed in his arms her nails biting into his flesh were she tried to pry herself free.  She spoke in a coarse whisper but seemed to be yelling as she spoke on and on about the being in the water.  She began to cry then, seeming to have forgotten where she was as she rambled on about forces coming over the hill and shouted for unseen others to hold their ground. One arm slashed through the air as if wielding a sword the other arm digging at her side reaching for some other weapon.

Thranduil had to bring an arm up to grip her shoulder like a quiver strap to keep her from wiggling away.  Her words dissolved into distorted language of elvish and a myriad of other languages.  Her heart hammered in her chest and her lungs heaved.  She was once more speaking of the person in the water her hand reaching out pitifully.  Her voice had not once risen above a whisper and it set Thranduil on edge.  He did not know what to do with the she-elf, she was no longer struggling but feared what would come if she was released.  They stood there for some time, Nim nearly limp in his arms and Thranduil ridged.

 _You can release her now._   Toron stepped up, though Thranduil had not heard his hooves on the stone.  _She has gone to sleep_.  He carefully lowered his towering form to the ground to allow Thranduil to drape her across the stag’s back.  When Toron stood again he walked around the Elven lord. 

“Are you not going to explain to me what just happened?” Thranduil demanded Following after the creature.

 _It is no concern of yours._   The stag dismissed trying to repeat one of his disappearing acts as he turned down a corridor.  Thranduil was not having it though and grabbed the stag’s long leg before it could fully disappear around the corner. 

“What just happened to her?” He insisted, he could still feel her raising heart against his arm.  “IT was like she was not even here, like-“

 _She was delusional?_ The stag snipped, he barred his flat teeth at the elf kicked his leg out of his grasp.  _Forget you saw it._

“You said she was chasing a ghost the day she arrived in my halls.”  Thranduil stated to the retreating creature.  “The person she saw in the water was another wasn’t it.”

 _What does it matter to you?_   The stag rounded on the Elven leader and snorted.  _You know nothing about her,.  If I say forget it.   Obviously it is not important for you._

“It is important if my healers are trying to treat her.” Thranduil shot back, “We could help her.”

 _She does not need help!_ Toron snapped his teeth and then bared them like a wolf would.  _I have been by her side for over three thousand years.  I saw the first time she walked in another world and every time after that.  If it was something that could harm her it would have killed her long ago._

“Yes, but we could cure it.  You think she is the first elf to suffer such ailments?”

_You cannot help her._

“Because you won’t let us!”

 _Because we have tried!_ Toron bellowed raising his head up high to tower over the elf.  _Did it not occur to you that we have not tried to find some sort of aid?  I have lost my Little one for_ days _. Days of glossy eyes and screams.  We spent years looking for healers; human, dwarves, and yes even elves.  No one could help us, help her.  We grew tired of the endless disappointment, we grew to live with her illness._

“How long has it been sine you have asked for aid?” Thranduil asked his eyes trained on the sleeping elf on the stag’s back, “Even we elves are capable of learning new things, and perhaps there is something to aid her now.”

Toron’s eyes sparked, her ears flipping forward before he quickly tucked them back against his skull once more. _No, Little one and I have given up that chase long ago.  To return to it with no hope of a change._ He shook his head, _it would ruin any hope she had in the elves forever and . . . and she has shined brighter than I have seen her in sometime within these halls._

“Maybe if I speak to her-“

_No.  If no cure is to be found here then she would never be able to return.  It would shatter what hope she had left of . . . do not take that away from her.  She will be fine I promise you._

Thranduil sighed, “Alright, I will not mention this to her.”  The stag nodded his head in thanks.  “Return her to the healers at once, please.  They pester her but it is for her own good.  Try to keep her there will you?”

Toron chuckled.  _You talk as If I have any control over her movements._   He mused.  Toron jerked his head to motion behind Thranduil. The elven lord turned to find the space behind him empty, and then the corridor before him the same.

***********

“She made a mess of two of our kitchens!”

“Not to mention dropping 13 barrels of wine into the river!”

“That beast of hers nearly impaled me!”

The complaints ran on and on and Thranduil could only sit there dully as the elves below him rambled on.  Since the morning of her . . . outburst deep in the cellars she seemed determined to cause all sorts of havoc within Thranduil’s halls.  All of five days she had been there and already his people were ready to mutiny.  He had managed to pacify the first group of complaints but now she was causing trouble too quickly for him to smooth over.  He couldn’t even find her to scold her for it, she was like a devilish pixie.  Yet Thranduil could fell no real malice towards the elf; all her actions felt like a child too eager to explore.  It was obvious she knew none of the basic culture of elves and could not be totally blamed for her rudeness.

Still, these complaints could not be ignored anymore.  With a wave of his hand he sent away the flustered elves and set himself to the task of finding the she-elf.  A task better suited for a whole patrol of elves rather than just himself.  Though, He himself would probably have better luck finding her anyway.  He started in the healers den.  Toron had done better at keeping her within their grasps in the morning and towards the evening.  He was not surprised to find the bed empty with a new round of complaints from the healers.

From the watchtowers to the wine cellars Thranduil roamed.  Not so much searching but wondering.  It was how he had come across her all those times in the forest and in a way his dwelling within these halls was a forest as well. He had a feeling he would come across her if the time was right.  What was he to say to her though? He refused to punish her in any form and knew that scolding would do no better.  How did one go about correcting when the other had no idea what was wrong and right in society?  Such things people learned when they were young, moldable.  Nimineth was over three thousand years, as set in her ways as marble.

A dragged a hand down his face with a groan.  Perhaps he had taken on more than he thought.

He made his way back from the wine cellars to the watch towers and gazed out over the darkened forest.  Perhaps she had left.  He already figured out that her stay here was a fluke.  Perhaps she had come to realize this as well and left?  He shook his head discarding he idea at once, she would not leave without a sign of some form.  He drew away from the windows and headed back towards his throne room.  He would wait for her then, she would return at some point.  At least by this evening he would return to the healers den for fresh bandages and then he could-

Thranduil cried out startled as he crashed into another, he attempted to bound backwards but the damage was done. His front was covered in something that smelled strongly of ale and the other elf was sputtering trying to collect the shattered bits of bowl at their feet.  Thranduil held his arms out looking down at himself.  He quite liked this robe, he hoped it wouldn’t stain.  He then looked to flustered elf; any normal day he would have told the elf how much of a clumsy fool he was, he had even opened his mouth to do so, but at that moment he just wanted to be washed of this mess.

Thranduil shook his head and gathered his soaked robes so they would not leave a sticky trail across the ground and headed for the bathing space.

Unlike other elven strongholds, His home did not have the ‘normal’ bathing arrangements like baths and showers.  To manage such things within their woods would have disrupted the flow of the trees around them.  _She_ could not bear the thought of ripping up the ground so they had done something different.  Tucked around the kingdom were pools that needed little more than a trench carved into the ground to allow the river water to flow into and out of them.  They could even be heated with the use of furnaces.  Some, like his own, were a bit more luxurious.  His personal pool had a waterfall that could be heated to create a makeshift shower.  The water would be cool without anyone to heat it beforehand but he only needed it to rinse himself clean.  He made it all the way into the bathhouse when he heard a voice.

_Is it too cold?_

Toron’s deep baritone echoed off the stone walls.

“Better than the rivers.” Nim’s voice came next, “Are you sure no one will come in here?”

_It is the elf’s quarters, I doubt one of his subjects would be allowed within and he is out looking everywhere else. You have nothing to fear._

Thranduil needed to turn around, needed to leave the room.  He even turned around but couldn’t bring himself to exit.  Elves with strange deer companions did not just appear out of nowhere.  They were hiding things.  His mind flashed back to the day prior when He had held Nim as she struggled through some form of delusion.  He glanced back to the wall that divided himself from the other two.

 _It’s becoming infected.  Something within that water was foul._   Toron rumbled.  Thranduil could hear his large legs splashing through the water.  _We must get something for it._

“It will heal, they always heal.”  Nim’s voice lacked any real conviction.  “You cannot expect me to show them-“

 _No._   Toron cut in, _I will get some of the salve from the healers and you and I will get it bandaged.  For now though._

Nim gasped as water splashed, Thranduil could only imaging Toron was attempting to clean whatever wound Nim had not allowed the healers to see.  They had complained constantly at attempting to change any bandage on Nim’s body, they had given up on it after the first day and allowed Nim to do her own.  What did she not want them to see?

He moved painfully slow to the wall listening absently to their conversation.  He should leave he should turn around, he needs to turn around this is wrong.  Yet his body moved until he was pressed up against the wall.  He was glad for the quiet rumbling of the waterfall to cover his breathing.  He shifted towards the opening.  Just a peek, just a moment.  There was something he was missing, something that made him different to her.  That made her happier here, as Toron had said.

He peeked out and felt his heart stutter in his chest and nearly stop.

Her back was too him, and there was indeed a festering wound across one shoulder but it was not what made his blood run cold. Scars upon scars upon scars. Like a trail that had been trodden over again and again. Burn scars, whip scars, blade marks.  So many he could hardly tell where one began and another ended.  They spoke of a suffering one should never have faces, should never have survived. 

Her head turned and her eye caught Thranduil’s.  Everything made sense, every word every action.

“You-“

Toron rounded on him at the sound of his voice.  The stag bellowed and charged forward and Thranduil couldn’t move, his eyes glued to the old wounds across her back.  The stag meant to impale him he knew.

“Toron.”

The stag stopped a hairs breath away from Thranduil, the tip of his tallest antler brushing against the front of Thranduil’s robes.

“I-I’m sorry.”  Thranduil finally pulled his gaze away and took two quick steps back. 

*****

He was walking now, far from the pool and from Nimineth.  He didn’t know where he walked or if anyone pointed out his ruined robes to him.  His mind was stuck replaying those moments again and again.  Feeling the pieces click into place, he knew her.  Or rather _She_ knew her.

His wife, his beloved Miniel*.  Nim truly was a ghost of his past.  Miniel had told him extensively of the elf she had taken into her care on her way to their home.  The shy creature who had been mutilated and left for dead.  The elf so frightened of anyone that she was more beast than elf.  The elf she had delayed her return to him for after she had disappeared.  The elf she spent decades sending scouts out to search for.  The elf she grieved for like a daughter. The elf that had become Nim. 

Had she come here in search of Miniel?  After so long?  Surely she knew that she was . . . that she was gone.  Even she so secluded from the world would of heard of the death of his queen.  Elves all over the land had sang songs of mourning and he himself had refused to leave his room for months.

Thranduil shook himself and forced his feet to stop.  He needed answers.  Why had she come here now after so much time?  Why had she hid herself from him, both in body and in identity?  Most importantly, why had she left his wife as she had?  Left her to mourn and search fruitlessly.  He sucked in a breath and turned as he felt eyes burn into his spine. 

Nim sat upon his throne her hair still damp but her body clothed.  No amount of clothing would ever be able to hide the truth he now knew.  She held his gaze unflinching and horribly sad.  A fiddle and bow occupied her hands, and he realized it was most likely her music that had pulled him from his thoughts.  Now they lay quiet.  She remind him of Nienna* sitting there.  So wrapped in grief and isolated from everything around her.  For a fleeting moment he felt the urge to comfort her but knew there was no form of comfort to chase away such sorrow.

“Turns out,” Nim started, her voice sounded raw as if she had been screaming, “I am just an elf hiding under a sheet.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Miniel: In case it wasn't obvious, Thranduil's wife is never given a name in cannon so I picked one out. There are many reason I chose this name but I wish to not give those away. You can know though that it does mean first daughter.
> 
> *Nienna: Nienna was one of the Valar and was one of the eight Aratar. She had an affinity for grief and mourning (mostly for the destruction of the world by evil forces like Sauron and Melkor) as well as endurance and mental strength. You can get any other information about here here ---> http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Nienna


	12. Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you think it will work? Toron rumbled  
> “I don’t know Toron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey~ So this chapter was suppose to be out on like Thursday of last week but my laptop decided that it was going to delete it all and make me restart. So I did which is why it is late though I did make it a bit longer than some of my other chapters which is awesome I think. 
> 
> As always kudos and comments are always welcomed. (Seriously, I make all the happy goat noises when I get comments) XD

 

The spark of life had left her eyes, left behind was the dull grey of despair. Her face, Still as youthful, now seemed tormented and stretched thin.  She drug the bow of the fiddle across the strings the few notes low and soul full.  Her gaze never left Thranduil’s and the longer she stared the fuller her eyes became, but did not spill over.

“She spent decades looking for you.”

“I know.”

“She mourned you, like you were her own child.”

“I know.”

“She never gave up hope that you would find your way here.  Left the gates to our home wide opened every night, rain or shine, so that you knew you were always welcome.”  Thranduil had begun to climb the steps of his throne, Nim grew smaller and smaller with each step he climbed.

“I tried to right it.”  Nim breathed, “Tried to find her.  By the time I had figured out where she was . . . “She set the bow aside as if it was something as fragile as blown glass.  “This was all I could find.” Her fingers coiled around a delicate silver chain from within her shirt and brought it forward.  At the end rested a sparkling jewel. “Resting in the ashes.” At least a tear rolled down her cheek.  “I thought I knew pain.” Her fingers brushed against her shoulder, “But this was something I did not know.”

“It felt as if someone had cut my heart from my chest.” Thranduil added and Nim nodded tucking the jewel back against her chest.  “Before I lost her, she spoke of you.”

Nim refocused on him at once.

“I had tried to send her away from the danger.  She refused saying that if you had faced such horror that she could face this.”  Thranduil watched her but her face remained unmoved, “What could one face that would make a dragon seem like nothing?”

Her eyes clouded and she dropped her head.  It was like a wall had crumbled between them. Though nothing about her had changed she seemed so different from the elf who had teased him from the trees.  Stone and brick and mortar fell away leaving behind a wound that had never quite healed.  She began to shake and for a moment Thranduil feared she was having another fit before realizing she was crying. 

He was thrown unused to such open displays of emotions.  Though quickly his body was reacting reaching out to pet her hair.  Trying anything to sooth the wounded creature before him.  She reached out for him and grabbed his sleeve.  Her eyes were wide and red rimmed when she looked up at him.

“I don’t want to run.”  She whispered, “I-I think I can tell you . . . everything.  Just don’t. . . _Nin avlesto erui*._ ”

“I wouldn’t think of.” Thranduil murmured.

Just as her lips parted another voice cried out echoing off the vast walls. Tensed beneath Thranduil’s head her eyes pinpointing the source of the call near the main gates.  Already Elves were dashing out into the trees.

“What is going on?” Thranduil called.

“Spiders, The spiders have returned.”  His son Legolas called out as he disappeared out the doors. 

Nim had managed to duck away and was half way down the stairs by the time Legolas had spoken the first syllable.  Thranduil turned quickly startled at her sudden movement.  Thranduil just managed to reach her as she began to cross the bridge form his Throne. 

“Where are you going?”

“Toron is out there.”

“He can take care of himself, it is too dangerous for you.” His grip around her wrist tightened a bit. 

“We do not fight alone.”  Nim said, surprisingly gentle fingers prying his fingers away.  The moment she was free she was gone disappearing out the door and into the trees, now seemingly drenched with the cobwebs. 

*****************

 _You foolish elf._   Toron scolded his antlers digging into the screeching arachnid with an unforgiving twist the tossed the carcass away into the trees. 

“I could have killed it.”  Nim huffed pulling cobwebs from her hair.  Two other fallen monsters lay not far from her blade, her little dagger coated in greenish blood.

 _Not even you could have avoided all those fangs with that itty bitty weapon._   Toron scoffed turning to allow Nim to pull free the sword she kept secured to his side.  _What do you wish now?_

“Let’s help where we can now.  They will need all hands for these things.”  Nim pulled herself onto his back by an antler.  Toron bellowed and charged forward searching for the next victim.

 _You were crying._   Toron mentioned spearing into another spider as Nim dug her blade into the face of another behind them.  _I felt your pain, who has wounded you so?_   There was a growl to his final words as he smashed the creature against a tree and nearly ripped it in two as he yanked it off his crown.

“Time.”  Nim grunted shoving her own dead bug to the ground.  “It is nothing to worry, the time has passed.”  She tapped Toron’s side signaling him to move and he charged through the trees. 

Nim haled herself up into the branches and began hacking at webs causing several spiders to drop to the ground where they were ended by Toron’s unforgiving antlers.  She dashed across the web coated tree tops hacking at webs and spiders as she went.  Soon her front was specked with spider blood and her clothes ripped and tattered by the occasional fang.  She had faced such creatures before, though the memories were blurred and flagged with pain and panic of unfamiliar lands.  She tried not to focus on the memories as several threatened to take over her vision and wash her away from this time.

 _Stay with me Little one._   Toron called from below, _I will hall myself into those branches if I must but do not make me._

Nim laughed swinging down and landing on the Stag’s back.  She tugged at His antlers forcing his head to turn in time to impale another spider.  Nim dug her sword into the creatures face to make sure it’s death was sure before helping Toron rip it from his antlers. 

By the time they were sure that all the spiders were dead or had scattered both were panting and splattered in green.  Nim wiped the blood from her blade with a wad of cobweb before returning to Toron’s care.  They caught sight of a few straggler elves darting back to the main gates and Toron galloped after them, slipping in just before the doors fell shut behind them. 

“Nice work with those spiders!” An elf grinned pausing in her walking to allow Toron to catch up.  Nim recalled her to be named Elian.  “Came a long way from a rag in the river.”  She teased. 

“Thanks to you.”  Nim mused recalling how Elian was the one who saved her.  “You got a nasty cut there.”  Nim added motioning to a weeping wound on the elf’s shoulder.  She dug into Toron’s saddle bags and pulled free a little jar of healing ointment.  “Here, heal it up without the nightmare of those healers.”

Elian laughed, “Easy there, a close companion of mine is a healer.”

“Then they are awful.” Nim laughed.

“Take them to the dungeons.”  Thranduil’s voice echoed in the air and Nim perked up. 

“What’s going on?”

“Dwarves, we found them slinking about while we were dealing with the spiders.” Elian huffed, “Serves them rig- where are you going?”

Nim was already gone though, Toron dashing towards the commotion just as the group was being led away.  Nim caught sight of the pile of weapons on the ground and spotted a little dagger resting at the top.  An owl was carved into the hilt. 

She slid from Toron’s back and grabbed the weapon brushing away the remaining cobwebs.  IT was like being slapped.  Her mind flashing back to Beorn’s house, to the dwarves, to Fili and Kili.  She had left them, abandoned them . . . again.  She had wanted to help them, let them find their home but what had she done?  Running about these halls while they waited for her.  How long had she even been gone?  A week?

“Nim.”

Her fingers clenched the dagger at the touch of a hand on her arm.  She relaxed as she realized it was Thranduil.  His eyes went to one of the balconies and she let him lead her towards the sinking sunlight.  Nim couldn’t help but peer down into the winding pathways, catching the final glimpses of the Dwarves before they entered the dungeon wing.  She didn’t stare for long though as Thranduil was drawing her back to focus. 

“Are you alright?” He asked tugging at a bit of her ripped clothes.

“Just fine.  I have fought them before.”  Nim hummed, “Why have you locked up the dwarves?” She asked before Thranduil could lead the conversation down a path she no longer wished to speak on.  “Did they bring the spider?”

“They were trespassing.”  Thranduil stated an edge creeping into his tone, “No one enters my forest without my permission.”

“I entered your forest.”  Nim pointed out.

“I didn’t mind your presence.”  Thranduil mused, “Miniel told me to keep the door open for any elf in need.”

Nim closed her eyes.  He would not drop this then.  “I’m going to be leaving.”

Thranduil’s gaze cut across her but Nim kept her gaze forward.  She followed the line of the trees.  Faintly she could catch the tip of the mountain.  She needed to get them out she had failed her boys enough.  Thranduil’s gaze bore into hers and she began to struggle ignoring the burning into her side.

“Leaving?” He breathed.

“Yes.  I am healing well.  What wounds remain I will be able to take care of.”  She smiled a bit.  “The wind has begun to pull at me again.”

“You can’t. . . “Thranduil said though he grasped for a reason.  “Why? . . . Have you truly despised your time here?”  He reached to touch her again but she easily slipped from his touch.  “We can help you.”

Nim chuckled a bit, “You have helped me more than enough.  I am fine now.”

“Fine?” Thranduil scoffed, “chasing ghosts, having delusions?  Does that seem fine to you?”

Now it was time for Nim’s eyes to cut through Thranduil’s, hers seeming far sharper than the Elven Lords.  “I have lived my life for three thousand years, I am fine.”

“Why will you not accept my help?  This is what Miniel wanted, she wanted to help you, wanted you to call this place your home.”

“Because you cannot help me.” Nim spat her anger seeming to grow the more Thranduil spoke.  “Do you not thin I looked for aid?  I went to every healer I could find, from dwarf to elf to every one in-between.  They could not help me, what makes you think you can?”

“How long ago was it you stopped searching?”  Thranduil challenged, “Things have changed Nimineth, Things have changed, we know so much more.”  Thranduil reached for her, his hand chasing when she tried to draw back until it grabbed hold of her arm.  “Give this place a change Nim, whatever drove you away from your people. . . so long has passed not even the ageless are set in stone.”

Nim opened her mouth to protest but Thranduil silenced it with the wave of his hand.  “In one week we shall hold the _Mereth Nuin Giliath*_.  Stay for that, let us show you what living with your own kind can be like.  Stay until the sun rises and then make your decision.”

“I want you to speak to their leader then.”  Nim countered as Thranduil’s gaze grew stormy.  “I will stay this week, with your elves and your ways but I want an agreement struck between you two.”

“Why are you so insistent? For all you know they are criminals.”

 

Wither her back to him Thranduil could nearly see the mutilation of her back.  Even wrapped in cloth they were as clear as if they were exposed to him once more.  He nodded once in acceptance of her conditions.  Nim disappeared down one of the winding pathways and out of sight leaving Thranduil to pace the balcony. 

*********         

Thranduil had a sinking feeling of the coming week.  Never mind Oakenshield, he had planned to speak to him long before Nim had returned from the forest.  He had no plans to just let them go.  Nim had no idea what was at risk if he were to do that.  Nim though, he couldn’t help his worrying. 

She hardly knew what it was to be an elf.  So long outside their customs their ways.  She claimed to never have come from any elven stronghold, did she even know the customs?  Did she even know how to speak proper elvish?  The first words of it to cross her lips he only heard a few hours prior.  Never in all their time had she spoken any other elvish.  The little booklet she carried about was all writing in common tongue.  Did that mean she could not write it either?  They would sing songs during the celebration, would she even be able to understand the lyrics?  He made a mental note to find someone to tutor Nim in the language quickly, at least in the songs.

Then there was her clothes.  She had been appalled at the amount of clothes that were brought to her during her stay here.  Most of them had remained untouched as she had been in mostly sleepwear while here.  Not that it had mattered much until now, she had remained out of sight of the public.  Hardly any elves here had laid eyes upon her for more than a few moments, though they saw plenty of her mischief.  He made another note to find a few seamstresses to get started on a dress and clothes of her choosing.

Then there were the elves in general.  That is what truly made Thranduil fear.  Three thousand years on her own.  How could one such as she react to suddenly being placed into a social setting of an elven kingdom?  He could not help but think of her first evening here, the way she was hardly able to stand and yet so determined to escape.  The only reason she did not was because she was too weak.  Now she was strong.  IF she wanted to leave, she would, and there would be nothing Thranduil could do to stop it.  Should be place a guard? No, she was no prisoner.  Still once she was out amongst his people there was no doubt she would be swarmed. 

Thranduil dragged a hand down his face in frustration.  This week would not be easy.

***********************

“Must I always continue rescuing you?”

“Nim!” Both boys crowded the doors of their cells.  They had been stripped down to their most basic of clothes.  She couldn’t help the smile that crossed her lips as she held out the owl dagger to Kili and a fallen bead to Fili. 

“IT is good to see you my friends.”

“Where have you been?”  Kili gasped clutching the dagger close before tucking it out of sight. 

“I hit some troubles, I was injured and found aid here.”

“With these bastards?” Fili scoffed and Nim gave him a scolding look that silenced any more rude comments.

“Yes, Thranduil has shown great kindness to me.”

“Does that mean you are getting us out?” Kili gasped excitedly though his and his brother’s joy was short lived at Nim’s falling features. 

“I may be skilled in many of things, but – that was not something I could do.  Thranduil has agreed to meet with Thorin though.” Her head tilted to the farthest cell where the dwarvish man sat.  “He has agreed to speak with you on your imprisonment.”

The shadow in Thorin’s cell shifted and he came to the door glowering at Nim, “A meetings?  That is the best you could do?”

“You are lucky I got you that.  I know what lies in that mountain you are so desperate to reclaim.  It is not something you should take so lightly.”  Nim growled at the dwarf, “Be reasonable with Thranduil, please.”  Nim stepped away from the cell walls, “I must be going now.”

“Wait Nim.” Kili reached through the bars to grab her arm, “You will get us out right?”

Nim took his hand and squeezed.  She wanted give him, all of them, comforting words but she had none.  Instead she freed her arm gently and walked away.

************************

The fears Thranduil had found rolling in his mind about Nim seemed unfounded once the sun of the new day raised.  He had asked Elian and Tauriel to keep tabs on Nim, to make sure she was not overwhelmed to often by the others but both had quickly reported that there was no need.  Thranduil had brought himself away from his throne room to see for himself. 

Nim had never looked so relaxed.  She sat at a communal table for the morning meal and was laughing along with a few other she-elves at her mismatched appearance.  The pale yellow dress coat looking highly obnoxious against its bright orange tunic top.  Nim made jokes along with the others at her own expense drawing other elves around towards her.  Thranduil called for a nearby servant to fetch a seamstress to meet with Nim that afternoon. 

That had not ended as smoothly as Thranduil had hoped.  Nim throwing a long and tedious fit about the dress she needed to wear for the celebration, as well as all the other clothes the seamstress had suggested making.  Apparently the bright outfit of the morning was not a mistake of her lack of knowledge of clothes but rather a statement of displeasure.  She had sworn at Thranduil twice that she would continue to wear these ridiculous clothes until he agreed to her demands. 

Pants, Nim wanted pants.  She had been highly annoyed to find nothing but dresses in the clothes brought to her prior to now.  Though she had spoken of no qualms against the sleep gowns she had worn up until now, she simply refused to wear pants.  Pants were rarely worn by the average she-elf in his kingdom, such clothes were saved for functional uses during jobs that would be less reasonable for dresses.  Nim had apparently loudly disagreed, this had prompted an argument between the seamstress and Nim on “proper” ladies wear which in turn lead to Thranduil standing between the two she-elves.

“You will need to wear one for the celebration.” Thranduil countered to Nim’s sudden protest for anything that didn’t have two hole for her legs.  “Would it be so horrible as to wear a dress once or twice this week?”

“Yes.” Nim huffed her gaze remaining sharp and angry while the seamstress had become a tad more humble at the arrival of her king.  “I will wear a dress for the celebration but that is all.  Dresses are no good for climbing.”

Thranduil opened his mouth to point out that there would be no need for climbing but quickly allowed it to shut.  If she was going to climb to do anything it would be to get away.  To place her in a dress would effectively make it far more difficult to remove herself from a stressful situation.  Something she may end up needing in this new territory. 

“Make the pants and keep the dress modest.”  He added.  Nim grinned at him as he turned away.

Things seemed to only get better, by the third day Nim was never had to find as there was always a trail of elves behind her.  She had gotten into the habit of telling stories, some true and some not.  They all seemed to gravitate to her and her words.  The vivid paintings of words she would create to set up a scenery before even beginning the story itself.  Her book full of names was often in the hands of another as they passed it about bickering on whose name they should call and ask on. 

Once or twice Thranduil had plucked it from the hands of another and flipped through pages.  Always he would ask that of an elf’s name.  There were quite a few in here despite her reluctance to be anywhere near them.  The first time she had shook her head showing she would not share the tale.  The second she repeated the name and then asked for the note to the side.

“Goodbye.”  Thranduil read out and she stilled as if looking through her endless stories for the name and the reasoning.

“He was sailing west!” Nim declared then, “He tried to sweep me away!”  Nim threw her arms up dramatically making all the she-elves titter in amusement, “Alas though, Toron sent him on his way with a hoof print to his tush.”

From there she flung herself into the story of the elf, their meeting and their time together.  It was like watching her bloom for the first time.  Miniel had spoken often on how her little elf always seemed brighter when she told her stories.  Now Nim no longer needed to listen, multitudes of lifetimes filled with stories were simply waiting to spill from her lips.  She seemed luminous, vibrant, and so very alive.  Even Toron had relaxed into this new roll of social life.  Still stuck to Nim’s side he no longer watched for danger but relaxed and allowed Nim to pet and coddle him as she spoke.

When she was not speaking she was playing.  The fiddle she had come across was often near her and when her voice grew tired she would play.  Thranduil knew it as a relic he believed he had lost, the instrument belonging to his wife had long since been discarded.  Yet, there it was, tucked against Nim’s chin as she drew the bow over the strings.  Most often she would sit at the final step of Thranduil’s throne and play music for him.

Still it was not perfect, within the three days a ring of space had formed between Nim and the other elves.  Twice she had lashed out at elves who had gotten to close and had left both with slashes to their hands and arms.  And then there were the dwarves Nim had familiarized herself with. She spent just as much time in the dungeons with them as she did up here.  IT twisted something deep in Thranduil’s being to see how much more comfortable with the dwarves she was than with the elves.  She never allowed the elves at her back, going as far as to walk backwards when she spoke, yet with the dwarves she leaned casually against their bars and laughed and teased. She did not stiffen when the calloused hand tugged at a bit of hair or covered her eyes.  She even spoke in their tongue when she had still not spoken in elvish.  The tutor he had called for said there was no need as Nim had spent the whole afternoon speaking flawlessly but now had returned to the common language. 

He was not jealous, more confused.  In what world did an elf get along better with a dwarf than with their own kind? And why did she always-

“What on earth are you doing?” Thranduil paused staring up to his throne where Nim now sat, or rather draped.  Sprawled across the lavish cushions and dozing, though she was quick to awaken at his voice.

“Taking a moment of peace.”

“In my throne?”

“On this chair, yes.” Nim seemed unbothered to move.  “That seamstress is like a viper constantly wanting to fit the dress to make sure it is right.  It’s hardly a dress now as it is!  She has my measurements she said she could do it with just that and yet.”  Nim tossed her hands up in frustration.

“Remove yourself from my Throne Nimineth.” Thranduil warned.

Nim focused on him, her eyes looked lighter pared with the silver garment she now wore.  Lighter and far more mischievous, she seemed to enjoy teasing Thranduil by sitting in his throne.  “I was sitting on the stares, but you were taking too long.” She swung her legs and righted herself, “You seem to show up faster when I sit in this fancy chair.”

“It is a throne.”

“IT is a chair.” Nim corrected, “This is where you get things done, well I need things done.  We had a deal Thranduil.”  She crossed her arms.  IT made her quite the opposing figure even with her mussed short hair and troublesome smirk, though it fell away suddenly taking on a more serious tone.  “You have waited long enough.”

She got to her feet and stepped down from his throne.  “I have already sent for some to bring him up.” 

Thranduil sighed.  He had hoped she had forgotten that.  He should have known better. She could recall stories from a millennia ago how could he expect her to forget something that happened just a handful of days prior? 

“Stay off my throne.”

“I would, but all I see is a chair.” Nim teased as he took his seat where he brooded while he waited for Thorin to arrive. 

"Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. . . “, He began as the dwarf was nearly dragged up to the ground before him.

****

 _Do you think it will work?_   Toron rumbled as Nim examined the nearly finished dress across her body.  _You think that words will work to free them?_

“I don’t know Toron.” Nim sighed.  The moment she had left the chair room she had been pounced on by the seamstress and dragged off to try the dress on once more.  Though she did admit the dress was more of a dress now.  “I have to try though don’t I?”

_If it does not work?_

“I don’t know.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nin avlesto erui* : Don't leave me alone
> 
> Mereth Nuin Giliath*: Feast of Starlight!


	13. Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your delusions are not of concern right now. Toron tilted his head to fit her great crown through the doorway before kicking it shut with a hoof. Another hoof print was left behind. He is.
> 
> “Hello.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone! Forgive for the large break in between chapters. Life just seems to be rather difficult. One of my dearest friends has moved away and my beloved pet rat Poppy had developed another tumor and unfortunately passed away this morning. I made sure to get this chapter done now as I know I wont be feeling up to things come morning when reality has settled in. 
> 
> Also IMPORTANT stuff in the end notes.

 

Nim drew the bow down before arcing in sharply upwards.  The strings pulling against one another to create the warm sounds from the fiddle’s hollow body.  It reminded Nim of warm honey dripping out of a hive.  So sweet and so painfully slow yet worth every moment to capture it within a jar.  Her fingers moved and the tone changed at once the lulling melody changing to one of quick staccato bursts of notes.  How easy it was to turn sounds of morning to that of jubilation.  From low deep bellows to high bell like rings.  Now though the strings were full of tension.  Pulling upon one another in a way that made you fear of their inevitable snap.  Yet they held strong and Nim was able to play the troubling tune. 

“Nim, please.”  Tauriel sighed, “I know this is stressful for you but you make the very air uncomfortable, play something a bit more hopeful.”

Nim pulled the bow back from the fiddle and sighed, “I don’t play things, I feel them and they go through the fiddle.  I can’t help it.”  She set the bow down and instead plucked at the string the tune quickly becoming just as uncomfortable as the last. 

Tauriel grabbed the neck of the instrument and sighed, “Then try to feel something else.  What of that lovely tune you played the other evening? While you told that story of the field.”

Nim sighed unsure if she could conjure such imagery at the moment.  Her head was filled with the images of Thranduil on his throne cold and ridged as he stared Thorin down.  Still, she should at least try.  She returned the fiddle to the crook of her neck and lifted the bow.  She closed her eyes and tried to picture the field. 

“I’m sorry.”  Nim set the fiddle aside, “I am too nervous.  Do you think the meeting is done now?”

“I’m not sure.”  Tauriel shifted and got to her feet raising a hand when Nim went to follow, “Let me see, wait here.  Lord Thranduil has never been a fan of dwarves and having you storm in there might upset him.” 

“I can be sneak too.”  Nim protested but remained seated. 

Tauriel slipped away and Nim returned to the fiddle.  She tapped the bow against the strings listening to the uneven notes until something came to mind.  The notes began quiet, gentle. Caressing the strings in a way that reminded one of raindrops.  The rain became faster then and thunder sounded overhead.  Nim’s fingers flew across the strings and her bow bent and swayed and Nim’s body followed suit.  Her fingers soon were no longer her own and her movements were now mimicked by another.  When Nim closed her eyes _She_ sat before Nim playing the tune while Nim sat and watched enraptured.  They sat beside a fire in the dark wilderness.  _She_ continued to play as if the storm itself would appear at the call of her music.  Nim even had to look up to make sure clouds were not gathering.  Her eyes opened and she looked at Nim her eyes bright an alive.  She was seeing something too, in this moment, though what it was Nim didn’t know nor would she ever.  _She_ drew a long final note and Nim could tell she was quickly going to fall into another chorus.

“Nimineth.” Nim spoke then, quick and quiet.  She almost thought the other had not heard her, until.

“Nimineth.”  She repeated pulling the bow away from the fiddle, “Snowdrop.”  She repeated it in the common language, “It suits you.”  She set both tools aside and leaned forward to shuffle Nim’s hair.

“Nimineth.”

Nim’s eyes snapped open and she placed her fingers across the strings to stop their ringing note.  Tauriel stood before her, hands on her hips.  Obviously she had been speaking Nim’s name for some time if she had resorted to its full length. 

“I was dreaming.” Nim said faintly, the image of _Her_ fading from before her.  “What . . . what did you find out?”  Nim forced her mind to return to the present and she focused fully on Tauriel. 

The worried frown across her face told Nim all she needed to know.

***

“Thranduil!” Nim’s voice echoed through the air, a building anger filling the empty spaces of the grand hall.  “You promised me you would make a deal with the dwarves.”

“No, I agreed to speak with them in hopes of creating a deal.  They refused to be reasonable.” He scoffed.

“Did you even try?” Nim accused, “Or did you just sit up on your chair and glare at him?”

“Watch your words!” Thranduil warned, “I am not mood.”  He growled.

“My words?”  Nim growled back, “It is more than my words you will need to watch.  Those dwarves have families; children, wives, husbands, brothers, sisters!  I cannot let this stand!”

“You stay away from those dwarves.” Thranduil sat up focusing his angry gaze on Nim.  She did not even flinch.  “I do not need them filling your head with their lies and stories.” He sucked in a breath and forced his voice to calm, “If I felt they would return to their home I would release them.  Dwarves are cunning greedy creatures.  When I feel it is safe to let them go I will.  It is not a death sentence.”

“Thranduil-“

“Enough! I will hear no more of this.  Be gone and go elsewhere.”  He lifted his hand and waved her away with a set expression on his face.

Nim stiffened her hands clenching her fists at her side until her knuckles turned white.  Before she could utter even a word Tauriel was leading her away towards the training fields where she had left the fiddle.  Nim fumed the whole way glaring at the ground as they moved, a few times a curse word would find itself loud enough to startle the elves around them as they passed. 

“Yelling at a king will get you nowhere.”  Tauriel rounded on Nim, “You are lucky he doesn’t throw you in there as well.”

“There are no kings above me.” Nim huffed.  “Dare he lay a hand on me and he will know what wrath is.”

Tauriel scoffed playfully, “As if you know how to do real combat.” She teased nudging Nim a bit, “Hacking at a few dumb spiders is nothing when compared to an enemy with a brain.”

“I can fight.”  Nim protested.

“Come, play another.” Tauriel retrieved the fiddle and returned it to Nim’s hand.  “The last thing we need is aggravating you any more with a mock fight.”

“You are simply afraid that I would beat you.”  Nim countered but took the instrument anyway.

She settled into the grass and silenced any retour from Tauriel with a wave of the bow.  She bounced the bow on the fiddle’s strings for a moment trying to find an idea in her mind to play to.  Continually her mind returned to Thranduil and flared with annoyance.  She pressed her lips into a thin line and began to play.  Quick agitated strokes moved over the strings as Nim played forcing her frustrations out into the instrument.  She was sure to break the strings if it continued much longer.  Already she could feel the delicate hairs of the bow breaking and ticking her hands as it slid up and down the instrument’s body.  The notes rang high and squeaky before rapidly dropping low and vibrating against her chin like a dangerous growl. 

“that is- “

Tauriel jumped as Nim lashed out the bow just a breath away from the commander’s eye.  She had grabbed the neck of the fiddle to stop Nim’s furious playing, her hand still gripped the instrument.  Nim glared at her for a moment longer before dropping the Bow into Tauriel’s lap and releasing her hold on the fiddle as well. 

“You are far too passionate a creature.”  Tauriel sighed examining the ruin bow.  “IT will take some time to repair this bow now, you know.”

“I will find other means to amuse myself.”  Nim stated dryly yanking grass from the field. 

“How about you spar with me?  Though I fear it may be a bad idea perhaps burning away a bit of your energy will cool your mood.” Tauriel motioned her to the open grass where a handful of other elves were practicing. 

Nim opened her mouth to protest but then thought better of it, she was rather in the mood to hit.  She followed Tauriel out into the field.  Tauriel gathered a few bamboo rods and handed one off to Nim.  She tested the weight moving it from one hand to the other.

“Ready?  I’ll go easy on you.” Tauriel mused shifting into position.

Nim sized her up for a moment remaining how she normally stood the mock weapon hanging at her side.  She nodded once and Tauriel launched at her bamboo shaft ready to strike.  Nim’s reaction was swift.  One end of the shaft jabbing upward into Tauriel’s arm forcing her attack off kilter before she whipped the staff around and took her feet out from under the younger elf.

Tauriel lay on the ground huffing to return air to her lungs.  Nim leaned over her, “You alright?”

“How in Arda did you-?”

“I told you, I can fight.  I’ve trained under many hands.  That and you are but a sprite-ling to me.  Come on, up you go now.”  Nim gave the other a hand and let her return to her side of the field.  “Now, no more “easy” alright?”

Now a few elves had taken notice and shifted slightly towards the two to watch the event.  Tauriel was more careful this time, moving about Nim trying to find a weak spot to strike.  Each blow she darted into was blocked by Nim’s swift movements.  She tried a charge again and Nim followed with the same tactic as before.  Her staff managed to graze Tauriel’s arm but the swinging blow was dodged.  Tauriel darted back looked rather pleased with herself.  Nim grinned a bit and made her first offensive move.  She drew the staff back and launched it at Tauriel like a javelin.  Tauriel dodged her eyes following the training tool for but a moment, but it was only a moment Nim needed. She crowded against Tauriel making the long bamboo staff all but useless in combat.  Tauriel discarded it quickly and moved with Nim blocking the jabs and punches tossed her way. 

“This is not- how elves- fight.” Tauriel gasped out blocked attack after attack. 

“I am not an elf.”  Nim mused and bounced back retrieving Tauriel’s discarded bamboo staff and pointing it out to her, “Show me why a young sprout like you became captain of the guard.”  Nim ordered, “I am not breakable, I can take a few hits.” 

Tauriel retrieved Nim’s just in time to block a powerful strike from Nim.  The lengths of bamboo rattled against each other making them difficult for both to hold.  Tauriel was forced into the defense as Nim struck again and again.  Tauriel blocked each move her eyes darting trying to find a pattern in the strikes, a place where she could strike back.  She managed a jab into Nim’s side digging the dull into soft flesh.  If Nim felt it she did not show it.  Another strike was to her shoulder leaving part of an angry welt climbing up Nim’s neck.  Still Nim did not back off, her strikes coming in more furiously than before.  For each hit Tauriel got in Nim had another quickly coming her way. 

_Little one!_   Toron’s bellow sounded across the field. Nim tilted her head and Tauriel struck sending the other elf off her feet and onto the ground.  _Foolish little tree nymph._   Toron snorted at Tauriel, _Nim does not fight!_   He towered over Nim gripping the staff and yanking it from her white knuckled grasp. 

“It was just a bit of fun.” Tauriel panted

_Fun for you._   Toron scoffed forcing Nim to her feet.  _You know better than to do such things!_   He turned to Scold Nim who looked a bit dazed now.  Tauriel moved to make sure she was alright only to find herself being shoved aside by Toron’s great hind quarters.  Nim managed a smile and wave to show the Tauriel there was no hard feelings.

Tauriel managed a confused wave back as she watched the stag escort Nim away scolding her all the way.  She gathered the training staffs and returned them to their place.  The small group of elves who had gathered were dispersing now.  She did not understand that stag.  Appearing out of thin air it seemed and nosing about Nim like she was some lost little child.  She made a note to ask Nim of him later when he was not around.  Though that seemed highly unlikely for a time.

*******

_You know what fighting can do to your . . . condition._

“You sound like Thranduil now.” Nim noted poking at a welt on her arm.

_Do not compare me to that prissy little lady bug._   Toron scoffed with a stamp of a hoof that most likely left a good chip in the stone floor.  _He is delusional by memories of an elf he never knew_.

“Are you saying I am delusion too?  We see each other in the same light.”  Toron gave her a glare and herded her back to her room. 

_Your delusions are not of concern right now._   Toron tilted his head to fit her great crown through the doorway before kicking it shut with a hoof.  Another hoof print was left behind.  _He is._

“Hello.”

Nim rounded on the Hobbit that peeked out of the wardrobe.  Cobwebs still tangled in his hair and little blade at the ready.  Nim stared at him for a moment before scoping him up into her arms and hugging him. 

“Oh Bilbo! You are alright!”  She breathed spinning him around once before setting him back onto his feet.  “I had feared the spiders got you, but when there was no body I figured you must have remained behind at Beorn’s.”

“No I uh, have been hiding in this um place.”  He motioned to the space around them. 

_He has used a ring._   Toron spoke up making the hobbit stiffen where he stood.

“Ring or not he is safe and well!” Nim pulled at the cobwebs in his hair.  “What on earth are you doing here?” Nim added grabbing at his shoulder, “You could have been captured!”

“Yes well . . . that’s why I waited for you.  To um . . . well to make sure you were still on our . . . side.”  He shifted uncomfortably at the admission but Nim seemed unbothered.

“I would never betray you.  If I had known the others were in the woods I never would have allowed anyone to stop them.  I found out too late.”

“We must get them out though! Durin’s day will be here soon they must make it to the mountain!”  The hobbit began to pace. 

“I am working on it. Thranduil is not an easy elf to persuade.  IT does not help that Thorin seemed to have insulted in deeply on top of it.” 

Bilbo let out an annoyed noise and scrubbed at his face.  He seemed to know all too well how stubborn the dwarf lord could be.  He paced a few moments more before Nim offered him some bread tucked away in a basket. 

“You do have a plan right?” He asked between heaping mouthfuls.

“A Plan?”

“To get them out?” Bilbo elaborated, “You must know all the exits and ways out of this place by now right?  Kili told us all about how clever you were, how often you got him and Fili out of trouble.  You must have something ready right?”

Nim starred at him, she had not even thought of breaking out.  To do something to betray the hospitality of the elves around her.  She had figured if she had made a strong enough reason he would relent and release them early.  He even promised not the make them remain forever.  Nim told him as much and Bilbo now took his turn to stare at her. 

“After everything you would just let them remain in those cells?  You know what this means to them right?  What taking back Erebor will mean for all of the Durin’s folk?  Kili said you promised to get him out!”

“Yes, but-“

“No Buts!”  Bilbo snapped, “You promised!  You have been here what?  A week?  And you feel your loyalty is more to him than the dwarves you lived with for years?!”

“They are all I got left!” Nim snapped back, “All that I have left of . . . of someone very dear to me.”  Her words felt weak in her throat. 

“Are they not precious to you as well?”  Bilbo challenged, “Kili spoke on and on about you once you had gone.  About the times when you lived with them in the Blue Hills.  He said you were practically his sister.  Do you know what it means to have a dwarf call you kin?”

“Yes I know what it means.” Nim broke in shutting her eyes tightly.  “I know very well what it means.”  She whispered dropping her head.  “I have come to find so much here, feel things I never thought I could and . . . “

“Now it is not just your life your decisions affect.”

“It is not fair!  Do I not deserve happiness? Do I not deserve a home?  A proper bed and people to care for?” Nim felt tears sting in her eyes. 

“IF these elves are truly these things then they should understand.”

“And if they do not?”

“Home, family . . . they accept you for who you are and what you do.”  Bilbo squeezed Nim’s hand, “I think Fili and Kili have been rather accepting, even Thorin seems to be warming up to you too.”

“He tried to kill me when we first met.”

“I think he tries to do that to everyone he meets.”

Nim laughed a bit and straitened.  “When will Durin’s day be pass?  I have promised to remain here for four more days until a celebration.  It will give me a chance to speak to Thranduil on the matter, but if I cannot persuade him the celebration will leave the halls rather barren.”

“There should be time.” Bilbo nodded, “Where are the exits?”

“The great doors are the only ones.” Nim sighed, “Thranduil’s kingdom is a fortress dug deep into the earth.  See if you can find some traders tunnel to go through, but keep out of sight.”

Bilbo nodded and pulled out a flash of gold before disappearing.  Nim watched the door open and shut before she slumped onto her bed and dug her fingers into her hair.  She did not wish to betray Thranduil in such a matter, he was too much like her; broken and lost in the world.  She had felt a kinship with him the moment she had found in so long ago.  He seemed to have felt the same with his kind invitation to his home.  He had not even asked her about her wounds, though it must have burned him up inside. 

“It is not fair Toron.” Nim turned and punched at her mattress. 

_When it comes to the land of elves little seems fair._   Toron snorted, _I will follow you no matter your decision._

The stag moved and carefully climbed into the bed.  The fabric and springs groaning in protest as his massive form crushed them.  Still nothing gave way and Toron was able to lay curling around Nim like a giant dog.  Nim shifted to lay against his familiar fur.  The warm thudding of his heart echoed in her ears, soothing her frustration and leaving her drowsy.  Her hand found Toron’s ear and she traced its outline repeatedly. 

_If this elf refuses to listen to you, to understand why this must be done . . . then he deserves none of your sorrow._

“I fear he may get it anyway.”  Nim sighed.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading. If you enjoyed my writing please check out my go fund me page here --> https://www.gofundme.com/2jkgafg And hit that little heart button to help boost my chance for donations. If you are feeling generous any and ever dollar counts. This is be probably my one and only chance to get out and see the world and I'm desperately trying to save up the money to do so. So thank you all for taking the time to look at it!
> 
> As always leave some kudos and love in the comments (As I will definitely need it in the coming days)
> 
> Love you all!


	14. Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What did you really find here?”
> 
> “It does not matter I have already walked away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone *throws glitter* The real fun has begun! And sadly my classes have started up again and therefore updates will be slow. I will try to update this story and my other on alternating weeks (Though we'll see about that). This Chapter was fun, I enjoyed writing it more than a few of my others. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!! <3

 

The seamstress would throw an endless fit if she were to see Nim.  Nim was not clothed in the dress the seamstress had created.  Thranduil had heard endlessly about her ruining of the first dress and now it seemed the second had done little more.  On a brighter note, he knew now who had stolen the lengths of cloth from her wares.  It was simple with no intricate stitching of beads unlike so many others around her.  Even its color was in stark contrast to everything, the deep warm brown of the fabric handing delicately around her neck and down her form paired with the snowy hanging sleeves seeming more like a branch touched by winter than the pail starry hues of the others.

A few elves teased her playfully tugging at the simple garment which Nim would fuss over and wrinkle her nose at any of the more delicate designs displayed to her.  Still she seemed unbothered of her difference, though.  She would spin and twirl if asked and though a few remarks must have been rude she would only grin and then make a face the moment their back was turned.

Toron, who was decorated with a myriad of vibrant colored swirls and dots around his face and limbs took part in her face making.  Going as far as to trip a male elf who had jeered at Nim’s attire and nearly sending him into the harpist.  She had smacked his muzzle in a mock show of scolding before her attention was taken away by another elf.

Her eye finally caught his and she grinned and mouthed a word that made him roll his eyes and turn away.

Those blasted dwarves. She had refused to let the matter of the captivity drop since they arrived.  As of the last few every other word out of her mouth seemed to be about those dwarves.  It had gotten to the point where if he saw that look cross her face he would send her away before she even spoke.  Most times she did not listen and would simply storm up the steps to his throne and make his listen.

This afternoon had been the first without the endless rattle of them.  He had worried nim had become cross with his indifference to her words and disappeared but it seemed she had only busied herself with the dress she now wore.

She stated for him through the crowd but as a livelier song came across the musicians another swept her up and began teaching her the steps.  He then started for her seeing the ways her gaze began to panic as the elf brought her closer.  He stopped short though as Nim began to tentatively follow the steps and grow more comfortable with the hand brushing her waist.  Her gaze found his again and she nodded once before refocusing on her partner to finish the routine. 

He watched her dance for a time, moving to different partners for each song.  It was as if everyone was showing her a little piece of something precious to them.  At this point all had heard of her deal with Thranduil, this was her last night bound to these lands by their words.  IT seemed he was not the only one who wished for her to remain in their halls.

AS the night drew on and the stars began to appear Thranduil could catch snippets of stories told by the elves to Nim.  Relaying memories and precious thoughts as one did during this festival.  Nim though, despite all her endless story telling up onto this point, remained silent.  He wanted to question her but each time he tried another elf would slip in before him and she would be brought into another dance or another story. 

Eventually Thranduil grew tired of listening, to be honest this celebration always brought forth a great sadness in him.  All his memories were tied to _Her_ and were forever tinged with the dragons fire.  He normally spent these nights on his throne brooding over things.  He had joined the festivities to make sure Nim was comfortable but it seemed he was not needed in this matter either.

“You promised me a dance.”

Her voice rang out in the empty hall, Thranduil had not even noticed Nim upon his throne and he was already at their steps.  How did she even get here before himself? Last he saw she was part of some complicated dance and too engrossed in learning to steps to even look up from her feet.  Now though she lounged on his throne leaned with her leg hooked over one arm rest while the other stretched in the air above her.

“I don’t believe we ever agreed to a dance.”

“Then dance with me now.” He foot dropped and she sat up.

“I’m sure there are plent of other elves who take you to dance and share their stories.” He dismissed. 

“But none I wish to share such important memories with.”

Thranduil was caught off guard by her words, the playful glint of her eyes had faded to something far too difficult to read in the glances he gave her.  Her eyes though remained trained and serious on him even as he turned away. 

“You tell stories all the time.”

“Yes stories, not memories.”

“Are they not the same?” He turned to look at her, his mind wondering to the book she kept in her little bag.

“I am made of an endless list of stories, ones told where I myself speak as a bystander.  It is what I decided I would be after Miniel.  Stories told by myself, by others, of a strange elf and her stag.  There is no place to find me no box to send letters, just stories of a being who may or may not be real after she leaves.  Memoires . . . “She trailed off, “Are not things I tell.” She got to her feet and stepped down to stand before Thranduil.  “Give me your hands.”

Thranduil hesitated a moment before he reached out and grasped her delicate fingers.

  _At once the hall disappeared his kingdom disappeared.  He sat in a field, an elven camp.  He looked about, taking in the white tents and the warm smell of burning wood and roasting meats.  Several elves milled about, several in which he knew.  He tied to raise his hand in greeting but found himself unable to move.  When he tried to speak he could not.  It was only when he looked down and found that his hands were not his own that he realized he was seeing through Nim’s eyes.  Could look all around but had no control to move or speak._

_“Alright, we are going to get you cleaned up alright?”_

_He felt as if he could weep.  Miniel, his Miniel, her voice such a beautiful song in his ears.  She looked no different than when he saw her last.  Her long ebony hair held away from her face in delicate braids, her wide almond eyes so loving._

_She stepped from outside a tent with a pair of sheers in her hands.  “We’ll try to save as much as we can, alright?”_

_“Just cut it off.”  That was Nim, but her voice was not the same as now.  It was raw, unused and tattered.  To form such a little sentence seemed to take her breath away leaving the final word hardly a whisper.  It was odd to hear her voice coming from what should be his mouth.  “I want it all gone.”_

_“We can do that too.” Miniel soothed reaching out with Nim/Thranduil lifted her hand and squeezed it tight.  Thranduil could feel her touch, as if it truly was he she was touching.  “We’ll get this done and then some food alright?  Food sound good?”_

_At the first snip Nim flinches and all but dives away from Miniel.  Fear courses through Thranduil, his heart thundering in his chest.  Flashes of blades red hot and brutal overwhelm him and for a breath all he wants to do is run. This place was not safe, he was not safe._

_“Easy now.  Easy . . . easy now.”  Miniel is there though crouching just before her and patting her tangled locks, “Nothing’s going to hurt you anymore, remember?  So long as I am here not a hand will be laid on you.” Her voice goes hard, and the hand now covering Nim’s squeezes tightly._

_“The blades. . . “Nim whimpers._

_“I won’t cut you . . . here we’ll do it together, so there are no surprises.”_

_She coaxes Nim/Thranduil back towards the tent and carefully hands her the sheers before wrapping her own hand over them.  This way when she cut Nim could feel where the blades would be and what would be cut.  The process took far longer with many breaks and adjusting of hands.  The finished product was uneven and messy. Thranduil could feel it when Nim dragged her fingers through her hair.  But the relief, to stare at the ratted mess of hair now clumped all around her, it as if she had been renewed._

_“Now let’s go-“_

Again he was thrusted back into his throne room and he even staggered as he struggled to regain his bearings.  Nim was there though, seeming used to this reaction and was quick to steady him.  For a moment he is lost trying to piece together what he had just been witness too. 

“that is a rare gift.” He finally speaks, surmised to find his throat feeling a bit raw all of the sudden.

“I am told it is similar to the Lady Galadriel’s gift, though I have never been able to project thoughts as her gift has been described to me.  I must always be touching the other.  Nor can the images be falsified in any way.  I can show portions or pieces but what you see is how it happened.”

“So that was when she found you.”

“Yes, I recall so little like this.  Only memories that have affected my life deeply keep their clarity to such an extent.  IT is why I tell my stories instead of show them.  The images are never as clear, he voices and feelings blunted.  Like watching through a thick pane of glass.”

“Do you recall your . . .” Thranduil raised a hand to motion to her back but she was already nodding.  When he reached out to take her hands she drew them back.

“You felt her hands did you not?  Could feel the sheers in your hand and hers over your own.  Those memories are the same and I cannot dull the pain of them.  My emotions will become yours you will feel my body as if it was your own.  And I feel it all again too.”

“And to speak about it would not be the same.” He added and she nodded. 

“So dance with me.” Nim held out her hands again, “I fell as if such a time will remain crystalized so no matter where I go I can recall such a dance.”

“So you do not wish to stay?”

She dropped her gaze but quickly returned it to his, “Even with all my faults?” She prompted her hands again and he took them, bringing her close to himself and leading her into a lazy waltz.

“So long as you do not bring up those blasted dwarves for the rest of the evening I don’t care what you do.”

“No, the time to talk of dwarves is over.” Nim hummed. 

Yes, such times for talking were over now.  Bilbo and her plan had already been put into motion.  A few of Thranduil’s best wine bottles were left open down in the cellar.  Something no good self-respecting Elf could let go to waste.  The drink was strong enough to hide any taste of the sleeping herbs she slipped into them.  It would not keep them out long, but it would be enough. 

“May I see another?” Thranduil murmured his head carefully resting atop Nim’s, “Anything.”

Nim pondered a moment and then a smile drew across her face.  “This is not an excuse to get out of dancing is it?  So you best keep your step.”  She warned.  She changed her hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

****

Leaves, leaves everywhere.  He knew them at once too, those of his home though in early spring instead of fall as they were now.  He looked about taking in their fresh scent and had a feeling right away that the forest around him was much younger here.  Nim crept forward and Thranduil caught sight of him home, his old home, with Miniel.  Building interwoven in trees and gardens lined the pathways.  The air smelt of flowers and springtime.

Miniel was not there however, Thranduil could sense through her that she had already passed at this point.  Still the air held a hint of her presence and crouched in the trees to bask in its fading glow.  Then time seemed to speed up, not that much changed.  Nim remained in the spot watching the elves pass until the sun set.  When the music began he knew at once why she had chosen that memory. 

The first feast of starlight without Miniel.  Thranduil recalled it fondly as it had been a time where all in his kingdom came to remember her passing with times spent with her.  They all sat out among the stars and sang and cried.  Something warmed in his heart to now know that Nim had been there too.  Tucked away in the shadows listening to all their stories.

The memory faded and he was returned to the hall he couldn’t help but smile.  “So you knew of this festival already?”

“Yes, I watched them every year from that night after.  I never thought I would be part of one.”  She mused leaning back to look at him.  “Some years I would be too far to come so I would sit and remember that one.  Made me feel like I was a part of something.”

“Well, you are a part of something now.  You are part of this land, the people.  I don’t think my home could ever be the same if you left it now.”

Nim could only manage a smile as their dance slowly tapered off.  Thranduil tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and motioned for the balcony where another song was just finishing up as well.  “I can hear others calling for you.  Best you return to the party.”

“Are you not coming too?”

“In time, enjoy yourself for now.”  Thranduil shooed. 

As Nim departed she felt a ghostly hand brush her own.  Without missing a beat she casually turned down a path away from the balconies and deeper into the cellar. When the coast was clear Bilbo removed his ring and held the keys up to Nim. 

“And the guards?”

“Out cold.” Bilbo grinned. 

“Alright, go on ahead and make sure everything is in place.  I must fetch a few things and then I will be there.”

Bilbo nodded and slipped the ring back on disappearing from sight though she could hear his footsteps padding away.  Nim turned to go to her room but hesitated.  She could still see Thranduil from here, sitting on his Throne and looking off into space.  Something twinged in her heart and she was forced to look away. 

What she would do tonight would break anything she had found between them.  She had accepted that this was going to happen sometime back but that did not make it any less painful.  She had torn at herself enough because of it and it was time to move on.  The dwarves were waiting for her. 

***

“Nim!” Bilbo hissed stopping Nim short from rounding the corner to the cells.  “Not all the guards drank the wine.” 

Nim stiffened and tilted forward looking over to watch the elf who was slouched on the wall absently picking at her nails.  She leaned back and closed her eyes.  “You have the keys right?”

Bilbo nodded patting the bulging bit of fabric at his chest.

“Then close your eyes and forgive me for my brutality.”

Nim darted out from the wall and slipped across the wall.  At least their back was to her and she did not need to see their face.  Her hand found their mouth first muffling their noise of protest.  Next her free arm wrapped around their throat and squeezed.  The elf struggled their nails digging into Nim’s arms before trying to elbow her in the ribs.  Nim took the blow and only continued her grip until their legs gave out and she felt them go completely limp.  She slackened her grip and lowered them to the ground. 

“Did you kill them?” Bilbo breathed.

“No, just unconscious. But not for long, once air returns to their body fully they will be up and furious.  So quickly.” Nim held out her hands and Bilbo unclipped the ring of keys and handed some over to her. 

She dashed to the cells on the end containing Fili and Kili.  Both glared at her with distressful eyes.  “Forgive me, Men Gajamu*, I would never have left you to rot in here.” She thankfully found the key to Fili but none of the keys linked to his brothers.  Nim gave over the remaining keys to Fili to check the sleeping guard.  Already they were stirring.

“Sleep.” Nim whispered.  Her enchantments were rather weak as well but at least it would buy them a few moments more. 

“Nim, come on.” She turned seeing the dwarves already slipping down deeper into the kingdom towers the cellars.  Kili was waiting though and when Nim straitened he grabbed her sleeve and dragged her back down the stairs. “You had it nice here didn’t you?”  He asked them.

“It was okay.” Nim dismissed, “Come we have fallen behind, I forget how quick dwarves can be.”  She mused.

“Then why are you crying.”

Nim stops short and lifts her eyes to her face and scrubs the dampness away.  She pauses past at the two sleeping elves slumped over a table in the cellar.  Their breaths were even but deep they would not wake easily.

“What did you really find here?” Kili cut in to her thoughts and she glances at him, rubbing at her face again at the new unwanted tears.  “Tell me Nim.”

“It does not matter I have already walked away.” Nim dismissed now grabbing his arm and dragging him the rest of the way to the other waiting dwarves.  “Do not worry of me, you must get to that mountain because I was promised I could swim in gold.” She fiddles with his hair a bit, “Get your home back.”

“Nim!” Bilbo squawked. 

She could hear them too, the pounding feet of elves.  That guard had woke much sooner than Nim had hoped, curse her poor spellcasting.  She looked to the dwarves already squeezed into the wine barrels and looking about anxiously.  Nim had hoped to fetch at least a few weapons that there was no time for that.  They needed to get out of here.

“Go, I will give you more time.” Nim pushed Kili into one of the barrels. Both he and Bilbo were protesting when Nim yanked the lever and sent the Barrels, and Bilbo into the water.

Nim stared down at the water as it ran with everyone quickly disappearing with the currant.  She let the level go and the floor closed up just in time for the elves to flood into the room. She grabbed for the dagger tucked into the folds of her dress.

“Nim. . . “  Tauriel breathed, “What have you done?”

 

 


	15. Screams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If a tyrant is what you see than a tyrant is what you get. Remove her from my sight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baaack, I am working on the next chapter of to the sea but there was this whole thing with my laptop breaking and losing a butt load of progress and personal issues and bla bla bla. It will be coming though!

 

“What have you done?” Tauriel breathed again as if unsure her words were even spoke previously.

“What needed to be done.  No one has the right to cage another, not without just cause and there was nothing just in their confinement.”  Nim carefully unwound her hands from around the lever to the water below, “I will not apologies for what I have done, but I am sorry I had to go against friends to do it.”

Nim carefully pulled a dagger into view, something all the elves trained their eyes upon.  Though she was formidable in battle she was hopelessly outnumbered.  Still, everyone knew there was a great deal of damage that could be dealt with that little dagger before they would pin her down.

“We will fetch the dwarves and I will smooth it over with Thranduil.”  Tauriel reasoned.

“I am also very sorry for this as well.  But I cannot allow you to rechain them, it goes against everything I believe in.”  Nim took a step forward and the group tensed.

“Put the blades down Nim.” 

“You will have to pry them from my hands.” 

Nim eyed a few elves slipping away, perhaps to alert others to their escaped captives.  Nim lunged, but instead of going at the elves she rambled her shoulder into one of the shelves of wine.  Her now enemies were forced to scatter as the wood and glass tilted and began to fall sending glass flying and wine to soak the floors. 

Elves who were free from the shrapnel charged at Nim with others regrouping themselves quickly following.  Nim managed to send another shelf toppling before she was force into proper combat.  Neither parties wanted to cause much damage, in fact those trying to apprehend Nim had not even drawn weapons.  Nim only lashed at the limbs causing only minor wounds that forced the elves back. Neither were willing to truly fight and all too quickly Nim was pinned to the ground and the daggers forced from her grasp.

She searched for Tauriel and her face came into view a moment later, “Why Nim . . . we are kin.”

“We may be kin but they are family.”

Tauriel sighed and shook her head.  Word must have already gotten back to Thranduil because Tauriel was ordering her to be taken to him.  She was dragged to her feet and Nim gave no protest as they began their walk to the throne.  Her hands were splattered with blood not her own, her dress soaked in wine and glass.

When they arrived Thranduil was perched atop his throne, an indifferent icy figure above her.  Nim clenched her teeth and lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.  She would not feel shame for this.  This was right, what she did was right.

Nim was forced to her knees before the stairs of the throne and she stared up at Thranduil.  Slowly he raised to his feet and walked down the steps to stand before her.  For a while they just stared at one another.  Thranduil remained an Icy form of indifference, though Nim could nearly feel the rage bubbling off of him. 

“Speak.”  He ordered finally.

Nim pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I said speak!  Traitor!” He lashed forward and grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanking back.  Nim bit her tongue to hold back her yelp of pain and keep herself impassive where Thranduil had lost his composure. 

“Speak!” he snapped his nails dinning painfully into her scalp

“Why?”  Nim whispered, “I may not be skilled in the proper way of elves but I am no fool.  You have made your decision.” Her gaze met his and she wondered if he saw the same gaze he had found after confronting her in the trees.  Stormy eyes of rage and anguish. 

“Nothing I say to you will ever right this supposed wrong.  You said it yourself I am a traitor.  So, I will not defend myself against someone who already thinks me wrong.  Nor will I apologize.” 

Thranduil growled releasing her hair to pace, “Do you even know what you have done?  What lies in that mountain?  What destruction those dwarves will not bring upon this land?”

“Coward.” Nim hissed and pushed herself to her feet, “I know what befell those lands I know what waits among that gold, and I know what those dwarves plan to do.  I am not blind Thrandu-“

 “That is King Thranduil to you- “Thranduil snarled rounding on her.

“You are no king of mine!” Nim snapped her gaze like a dagger as it sliced across the few elves who dared to try and intercept her.  “You are a coward Thranduil! You’ve locked your people away from the world!  Made them blind and careless for those not within your walls.  You have left your forest to rot and become infested.  You have nothing left, your kingdom is dying!  You call yourself a king but all I see now is a tyrant! She would be ashamed.”

 “Excuse me?”

“She would be ashamed.”  Nim spat, “Miniel would be rolling in her grave to see your actions against the ones she gave her own life to pro- “

Thranduil lost his cool once more his hand striking across Nim’s face hard enough to turn it.  When she turned back the imprint of his hand was already forming.  Thranduil expected anger, rage, fear perhaps.  But the look upon Nim’s face was empty, blank.  For a heartbeat, he began to worry he had thrown her into another fit but he crushed that little flutter and turned his back to her.

“If a tyrant is what you see than a tyrant is what you get.  Remove her from my sight.”

A few elves grabbed Nim and at first, she did not react, her face continue to stare out at nothing.  One guard tugged at her arm and Nim’s eyes flickered before three other elves were forcing Nim to the ground and wrestling another knife from her hand.  She continued to struggle like that, like a wild animal, all the way to the prison cells.  Thranduil could hear the grunts and quiet curses as she managed to strike one elf or another.  The sounds of struggle continued until he heard the cell door shut and the lock click into place.

It was after that when the screaming began.  The first blood curdling scream seemed to shake the very kingdom to horror fill silence.  It was enough to have Thranduil on his feet and rushing to the hall where the cells were placed.  The screams continued all the while, horrible drawn out cries that begged for death.  He made it all the way to the first cell before he recaptured himself and wrangled his emotions back to their sullen anger.  A few guards stood before a cell glaring at its occupant.  One held a piece of cloth to his nose the edges stained red, the other two already were sporting the beginnings of massive bruises on their arms and faces.

“I told you she was insane.”  The bloody nosed one growled.

“Silence yourself!” One kicked at the bars and the screaming hitched for a moment but did not stop, “You will bring the king down here and only make it worse for yourself.”  The last of the words almost seemed to be pleading with her but the wailing continued. 

Thranduil turned away before he was spotted and let the cries continue.  He figured she would stop screaming soon enough, her voice would grow far to strained after an hour or so.  They did die down, though they never quiet stopped.  The screams became whimpers and moans, noises that Thranduil could hear no matter how quiet they seemed to be.  By the time Tauriel and his son had returned with the orc scum Nim had fallen silent.  Thranduil tried to ignore the fear that struggled to grasp him because of it.  He was not the only one who was worried as both his son and his leader of the guard seemed distracted, be it from Nim or the escaped dwarves Thranduil was unsure.

He returned to his throne and stared down at the splattering of his wine upon the marble floor.  Though he still seethed with rage but he could not help but begin to wonder why she did it.  Was it something he did?  Something someone said?  Why did she betray her own kind for a handful of filthy dirty hole diggers?  He didn’t understand it.  It didn’t make sense!

He smacked his fist against the arm of his throne before thrusting his hand through his hair.  He had nearly given her everything she could have ever desired and yet. . . She shunned it all as if he had offered her a life in chains.

He remained like that for some time, staring out at nothing and brooding over everything.  At some point, he heard a crash and a flash of white from the corner of his eye.  He was amazed it had taken the stag this long to break his way in.  He heard elves gathering and Toron’s furious bellows as well as the cries as he sent those elves flying.

“Lord Thranduil! The stag!  He has broken in.”

“I know.” Toron slowly got to his feet.  He had realized some time ago that Toron would not stand for Nim’s current state of imprisonment.  He was sure if he sent all the elves after him that they could manage to stop the beast, though he was not sure for how long.

“Yes, we have tried everything, he will not stop.” 

 “I will handle this.”  Thranduil sighed stepping down and following the guard towards the dungeons.

Toron had already ripped the door’s bolts from the stone.  The door hung crookedly from its lock, the steel now mangled and twisted.  Thranduil even saw bits of broken antler dotted around the twisted steel.  Toron himself was already carefully draping the unconscious elf over his back.  As he stepped out he spotted Thranduil. 

 _It is by her grace that you live._   He snarled as he stepped forward, daring the elven lord to stop him.  _Be it not for her words, I would crush you into the wine you adore so much._ Toron barred his dull teeth.  Thranduil noted a few arrow ends lodged into the creatures hide.   

Toron began to pass and Thranduil made no attempt to stop him, even going as far as to urge the attending guard back to allow ample room for the stag.  It did nothing to cool the creatures rage though.  As he passed the two he paused. 

If _I ever see your face, no, if I ever even catch your scent on the breeze . . . I will hunt you down and make you wish you were dead.  What you have done is unforgivable, and no one goes unpunished for hurting my Mother._

Thranduil followed the stag though, making sure to wave aside any other elves who had gathered for a counter attack.  Toron promptly ignored him, and even dared to kick out his leg a few times as if trying to hit his unwelcomed guide. 

“The gates.” Thranduil called as they reached the main pathway.  As Toron climbed the last few stairs Nim began to slip.  Thranduil grabbed at her foot keeping her limp form from sliding any further.  Toron snorted and a hoof kicked the elven lord back.  It was not enough to cause any real damage to him, but it was enough to stun him.

Though it was not quick enough to stop the flood of images.

The flicker of speckled white of a tiny fawn tucked within the tall grass.  It’s large frightened eyes peering out, its little nose flicking as it sniffed.  The creature, this tiny little thing that would become the massive Toron, took a single step out.

Thranduil blinked bringing a hand to his chest where he knew a bruise was already forming.  Toron and his charge was gone, not even a flicker of them visible from outside the door.  Thranduil straitened his robes and turned away.  He waved for the doors to be shut.  He needed a drink.

******

 _It is time to wake._   Toron hummed nudging the elf upon his back. 

Nim groaned but obeyed.  For a moment, she sat there seeming to take in everything before jerking upwards, “The dwarves?”

 _They escaped_ , Toron motioned to a orc corpse along the river side, _They were ambushed, but they got away.  I did not follow them long.  Once they were able to inform me of your capture I rushed back_. 

“You should have stayed with them, they would need your aid.”  Nim hummed grabbing Toron’s antler and then leaned down and grabbed at one of the orc’s swords as they passed.  Nim pulled herself up and tested the weight in her hand. 

 _Your swords are still with me.  I had the hobbit secure what weapons he could back on._ Nim dropped the weapon and pulled up her saddle bag and grinned at the thin silver blade.  She pulled it free and spun it in her had.  _Do you expect a fight soon?_ Toron mused.

“Perhaps, these orcs seem persistent.  Best to be prepared.”  Nim hummed she moved to tuck the sword into her belt but paused.  She stared down at the tattered remains of her dress.  She picked a bit at the tattered threads struggling not to sigh. 

 _You did indeed look beautiful in it._   Toron glanced back at her.

“I need to change, but do not stop.  They are probably far ahead of us and we will need to rejoin them as quickly as possible.”

She returned the blade and dug an old dagger out from one of the bags and began cutting away at the fabric until she was able to pull it all away and drop it to the dirt beside them.  She dug out a spare set of clothes and pulled them on. 

 _There are shoes in there for you._   Toron added but Nim made no move to actually take them.  She disliked shoes, always had really.  _It will be cold were they are going, winter is already set in._   Toron hummed, _Put them on._

“Yes, mother.” Nim scoffed reaching in for the simple laced boots.  They were gilded with leaves and vines of a pretty silver material.  She ran her hands over the stitching for a moment.  She was never one for any sort of decoration to her clothing, but she could not deny the beauty in the work of the elves from Mirkwood.  She tugged the boots over her feet and laced them tight. 

“Now can we move for real?” Nim teased tugging at is ear. 

 _Always so impatient, do you not enjoy the carcasses of dead Orcs?_   Toron teased before bounding forward and dashing off, following the flow of the river.

Nim glanced back, the edges of Mirkwood’s forest quickly retreating.  She turned away and dug into the saddle bags to retrieve her own personal bag.  Within were all her precious mementos from years past.  She took her journal and flipped through the pages before moving to the front were one had obviously been torn free. 

She had once found that first page so precious, and had almost kept it a secret for herself.  Her dearest possession above all other things.  Yet now it was gone, placed carefully upon her bed in Mirkwood to await discovery or entombment.  She was not sure what had drove her to remove the page and leave it there fully.  She just knew that this time she wanted something to remind people that she was there, that she was not just a story.  Be she remembered as a friend or a traitor, Nimineth existed in Mirkwood.

“Did you hurt him?”  Nim asked quietly. 

 _Did you wish me to?_   Toron asked tilted his head to look at her.  When Nim did not reply Toron shook his head.  _I did not.  Though I warned him to not even think your name less I crush him below my hooves._

*******

That evening Thranduil entered the confines of the room.  A brush with fine white hair caught in it rested on the vanity, a pair of breeches hung from the dresser haphazardly tossed aside.  The bed was caved in and obviously broken, the sheets ruffled and covered in hoof marks.  And there resting upon the chair near the balcony doors, was the bit of parchment. 

Thranduil crossed the room and lifted the piece of paper feeling it’s aged texture in his hands.  For a moment he believed it to be a letter from Nim, but with a proper glance he realized it to be much more.

 

_To write your own stories._

_Miniel_

Thranduil stared at the word, the note from his wife to a lost and frightened elf.  She had mentioned once how it was only the stories she told in the dead of night that would calm Nim during nightmares that left her despondent and lost.  And here were the words to encourage that same elf, an elf that went on to turn her whole life into an endless cumulation of stories.

He looked farther down the page, and there was more.

_I did not want to be a story here._

The ink was new, the ink still heavy and black while the writing above had faded to grey.  He ran his fingers over the writing feeling how the ink stood out against the paper it rested on.  This was what she was to become now though wasn’t it?  The strange elf who wormed her way into their king’s favor only to betray them all and release their prisoners to most likely cause pain and suffering.  A story told again and again by elf to elf until Nim was little more than the stories she had told prior to her arrival here.

He turned the page over and found one more piece of writing.

_I was real._

Below there was a simple blob of what appeared to be ink, but the longer Thranduil looked the faster he realized that it was blood.  He swiped his thumb over the dried mark and watched as the room about him distorted for a moment. 

The magic to leave behind memories imprinted like this was not an easy one but it was not something deemed impossible by any means.  With her own skill of sharing memories through the contact of flesh could easily spread into something like this.

He let his thumb rest across the dried blood and watched as he and Nim came into view and danced about the room.  Flashes of his Throne and pillars flickered in and out, whatever words were spoken between the two were left muted.  The two danced around him Nim’s face alive and joyful as he twirled her.  Her emotions had seemed so genuine, were they all truly just a ruse?

 


	16. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toron continued to bleat and bellow seemingly so lost in his panic that words were lost to him. Nim was forced to grab at his antlers and wrestle his head still so that their eyes could meet properly.  
> Dragon-His words were but a whisper

“Can you smell them yet?” Nim stood upon the creatures back staring down the riverside.  “I cannot see any trace of them.” Worry began to creep into her voice, “What if the orcs got hold of them?”

 _Peace, Little one.  Their spirits burn to brightly for such pest to confine them._   Toron launched himself off a bit of rock sending them both soaring through the air, a chill was slipping into the wind.  _And their impatient most likely meant that they have abandoned you._

“Do not sound so cross.  This is important for them.”  Nim scolded with a light tug to his ear, “Besides, if it were the boys’ choice they would have waited but they have Thorin to contend with.  He still hates me with a passion.” 

 _All the more reason to let them finish this without our aid._   Toron huffed steam blowing out from his nostrils.  _You saved their quest from disaster and this is how they repay you?  They would have let you rot in that cell!_   His next leap was a bit rougher his hooves gouging into the earth as he landed. 

“How could they have aided me without putting themselves back where they started.  Besides they knew I had you to fetch me if I fell behind.” 

_Yes, fell behind, not tormented._

“I was not tormented.” Nim said quietly sitting back upon his back. 

 _He caged you, that is torment enough._ Toron growled

“Calm yourself.  I am alright now.  You are getting to angry over this, we must keep our heads clear.  For all we know we are heading right into an orc encampment.”

_Good, something to crush._

Nim whapped his ear and shook her head scooting back across his spin to dig into the saddle bags and fetch a bit of dried meat from one.  She ripped and chewed at the flesh for a while focusing on the feeling of the breath rushing in and out of Toron’s lungs.  Little steam clouds were now appearing at each of his exhales and Nim could nearly see the frost beginning to form along the ground as they passed.  Though it was true she was unharmed physically, her mind on the other hand . . .

The phantom pain that had bloomed across her back had only now just begun to ebb away.  She could still taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth and the smell of decomposition and filth still burned her nose with each inhale.  For a time, she could hardly help constantly brushing her back to make sure the scars had not suddenly burst open by the vividness of the memories.  She could still feel a long-ended trickle of blood running between her shoulder blades.  The only thing that allowed her to keep in the present was that slight whisper.  It only appeared when the wind caught her ear just right, and if she just focused a little harder, allowed those horrors to feel a bit more real she could almost hear that voice as if it was a little bit more real too.  It sang in the distance, calling for her, murmuring to her.  Nim closed her eyes trying to hear it better.

 _I’ve caught their scent._   Toron stopped abruptly, either by coincidence or purpose, it caused Nim to jerk forward and shake her wondering mind back to the present. He bowed his head and began to sniff around the stone He snorted bringing her attention down to pieces of a discarded arrow.  Nim slid from the stag’s back and brushed her fingers along the tip and lifted it so Toron could smell it better.

 _It is dwarven._   He said grimly.  _And poison, wash your hands quickly.  I do not want to risk any of it affecting you._

Nim complied, going to the icy stream and scrubbing her hands until her fingers felt numb.

  There was a pit in her stomach.  Someone was hurt, someone was poisoned.  Nim didn’t know anything about poison, or healing for that matter.  The only reason she knew about the herbs that induced sleep was from listening to the healers while she was stuck with them and even then, it took her ages to rummage through their stores to find something with sleeping in the label.  She knew what plants one could eat and the one’s you couldn’t.  Were any of those actually poisonous though?  She knew of a root that could make one throw up but that wasn’t much use for that for a wound.

 _Little one?_   Toron sniffed at her.

“We need to get to them, we are already a day behind who knows how strong that poison is.”  Nim listed a hand up grabbing hold of Toron’s offered antlers.  As he raised his head she was lifted from the ground and returned to his back.  “Do you have the strength?”

 _I will always have the strength._   Toron took a few steps back before bounding forward launching himself from the outcropping of rocks. 

Nim watched as the lake grew nearer, the town placed precariously in its center growing in size.  The chill of the air had grown more prevalent here, Nim could already see ice forming around the lake’s edge.  Toron didn’t hesitate as they neared its edge.  Instead he only altered his course enough to race up a ramp of stone and throw them out over the water.  Nim gripped his antlers as they began to decent towards the water. 

The water swarmed around them and Nim looked out into the dark water.  A swarm of fish fled from their intrusion.  The water soaked through and for a moment all Nim could feel was the chill and her hand wrapped around Toron’s crown.  Nim had a deep love for cold water.  The way it was able to seep into one’s flesh to the bone and make it nearly impossible to tell where it began and you ended.  The way the darkness pressed in all around as the body began to cry for oxygen only to burst through to the surface to suck in that lungful. 

It was like being born again. 

Toron allowed them to sink for a moment relishing in the same sensations as Nim before his legs began to work to propel them to the surface.  Both sucked in the cold air in unison.  Nim rubbed her hands across her face and hair to clear away the majority of the water before leaning forward to help Toron with the same.  He began paddling towards the like of wooden docks after a moment of circling.  Nim began to scan what she could see of the town, there were no dwarves but already there were a few onlookers.  They pointed and spoke to one another, a few dashing off most likely to tell others. 

“Perhaps we should have taken the bridge?” Nim ran her fingers through her hair again trying to make it looks somewhat presentable. 

 _We would have drawn stares either way, these lands are not used to the slight of elves let alone a stag twice the size of any horse they may have ever seen._   Toron grunted shaking his head to remove a bit of water in his ears.  _This way was fastest._

“We will have quite the time getting you onto the wood.  I don’t even know if they are made to carry something of your size.  Perhaps we can tie some ropes around you and drag you up?”

 _You will not drag me out of this water like some drown rat._   Toron growled, I _will find my own way up, even if it means going back to land and using the bridge._  

“That may be best.”  Nim sighed.  The town was now so close Nim could make out the faces of the people with little effort.  A few more people had gathered but all stood back from one smaller male.  He sneered down at them as they neared his arms cross across his chest and a foot tapping with impatient. 

 _It is a rat._ Toron murmured

Nim hushed him scooting so that she was kneeling on his back to make her transition to the platforms easier.  She paused for a moment before reaching into the water and under the saddle bags to retrieve her swords, each she secured to her either side of her hips.  The waiting man visibly paled at their sight but quickly steeled himself, though his fingers now twitch nervously on his fore-arm.

“Slip.” He declared as they neared the small group.

“Slip?”  Nim tilted her head.

“The only reason elves come to this place is for trade goods, which as you _should_ know. Requires a slip!”  He scoffed.

“I’m not here for trade.”  Nim said

“As if I believe that.  I bet you are in on whatever Bard is planning, none of which the Master is having.  So I suggest you return to whatever tree you live in before I involve the authorities.”

“What is your name?”

“What is yours?” He shoots back quickly.

“My name in Nimineth and I suggest you remove yourself from my path.  There is someone who urgently needs my aid- “

“As I said no slip for permission of commerce no ent- “

 _I am tired of you! Remove yourself!_    Toron thrusted his head out one antler hooking around the man’s foot before he whipped his head the other way throwing him into the icy water.  The man’s fretful cries being swallowed by the water.

“Toron!”

 _You are far too polite to mortals, you find those dwarves and you toss aside anyone who gets in your way._   Toron ordered bucking his back a bit to urge Nim onto the platform.  Nim jumped onto the wood and Toron took off towards the bridge that properly connected the town to land. 

“Dwarves, I need to find the dwarves.”

“Oh, they left this morning.” One gentleman offered

“All of them? Were any of them hurt?” 

The people just shifted about each looking at one another for a moment before quietly slipping away through the maze-like paths.  This was the one fault of mortals that drove Nim insane.  All except for a few bold children always shied away from talk when it came to elves.  With a huff Nim started down the nearest path trying to find any trace of the dwarves. 

The sun was beginning to hang low in the sky, had they all really gotten to the mountain?  There was no way a medic in this mass of ramshackle homes had the skills to deal with such a dangerous wound.  Would Thorin really risk Kili’s life for a pile of rock?  Her eyes strayed to the mountain in the distant her eyes straining to pick up a flicker of moment or a wisp of smoke.  It was little use though, even with her superior vision even the mountain was too far for her to pick up such details.  Something did though, catch her eye. 

At first her mind said spiders but they were far too large and had far too few feet.  Nim sucked in a deep breath and caught the faintest scent of rot among the fish and mold.  Her heart stuttered in her chest, orcs.  They wouldn’t give a scrap of rotted flesh to this place let alone send such a troop.  There had to be something they wanted, someone . . . many someone’s. 

Nim grabbed for the nearest pillar and bounded her way up to the roof tops.  They were converging on a home nearer the center of town.  The boards of the roofs groaned even under her light weight but she thrusted herself off them none the less.  She wished she had the mind to grab her bow and quiver but the daggers she had stashed about her body would have to do.  She pulled two free as she ran skidding about the roofs desperate to catch up the now swarming orcs. 

A cry a few yards from the home caught her attention.  She whipped around so quickly the loose shingles below her feet gave and Nim was suddenly half sliding half falling down the edge of the roof.  Nim saw the source of the cry, one of the dwarves desperately trying to avoid the blade of an orc. Nim let one dagger fly its blade digging into the fiend’s shoulder and drawing his attention away. 

Nim rolled as she landed moving just in time to avoid his next swipe.  Nim thrusted her hand out the blade in her hand digging itself into his arm up to the hilt.  He drew back with a furious cry, taking Nim with him.  She scrambled for another blade and sliced it across his throat with her own cry.  The creature gurgled and Nim flinched as blood splattered her face.  She ripped the blade from his arm and as he collapsed yanked the one from his shoulder as well. 

“I though elves were suppose’ to be graceful.” The dwarf panted quickly gathering up a pile of scattered weeds. 

“I though Dwarves were too sturdy to fall over.” Nim shot back ending the life of another orc.  She ripped the axe from his still twitching grasp and handed it to the dwarf, “Bifur, right? Make yourself useful.”

“Bofur actually.”  He corrected with a grunt his new weapon taking the knees out from another orc before he buried the blade in the creature’s skull.  “I need to get these to Kili.”

“How bad is he?”

“It ain’t good lass.” Bofur said grimly.

Lead the way I’ll keep them away from you.”

The orcs seemed to frenzy at the mere sight of a dwarf.  Nim traded her short blades for a stole weapon from the orcs.  It was heavy in hand but she was just as deadly with it.  Other orcs were falling from above them as they neared the house, at first Nim believe it to be the other dwarves but it was far too quiet.  She could only hear the cries of battle and death of the orcs and a dwarf never dealt a killing blow without some sort of cry. 

“there are elves here.” Nim breathed just as a new cry echoed through the air.  Nim tilted her head, “They are calling for retreat.” 

“You understood that?”

“I’ve learned a thing or two.” Nim chased after an orc that tried to scurry past them and after their unseen leader.  Nim rambled the sword through it’s back until she felt it pop out his front and let them both drop into the water. 

The orcs were fleeing in mass now, Nim wasn’t sure where exactly they were but she knew that the direction they went was towards the bridge.  She chewed on her lip for a moment wondering of Toron, she hoped the creature wasn’t too prideful to think he could take on such a group.  She took a hesitant step after them. 

“Athelas.” 

Nim spun again watching the flip of auburn hair disappear into the ruined doorway of a home.  Bofur was following after making sure that no other orcs were planning a second attack.  Nim took the steps two at a time, she could hear is cries now.  She looked out once more to the final fleeting sights of the orcs, a flash of silver giving chase.  She sent a silent thought for Toron not to be foolish. 

She could almost hear him laugh.

***

“Nim!”  Fili gasped struggling to keep Kili still. 

The younger dwarf was thrashing about gritting his teeth as he tried not to cry out at the pain.  For a moment, Nim froze.  She disliked death, making a point never to remain around long enough to see anyone die.  But she despised suffering.  The cried of anguish, the stench of illness, it all made Nim pale.  An old part of her mind shouted for her to turn herself around and find Toron, remove herself from this place from this death.  She shook herself, Kili wasn’t dead yet, though it was a miracle he was still alive.  The wound alone did not look serious, a simple arrow hole, but it was the spider-webbing of black that filled his veins that made all in the room fear.  Such poisons were a horrible way to die.  They are away at the spirit and rotted the very blood in one’s veins until they were begging for death.  The extent of Kili’s poisoning chilled Nim, never had she seen one progressed so far, all the others had died long before it could.

“Nim, help hold him down.” Tauriel ordered and Nim jumped to attention. 

She stumbled forward and pressed down on his hip above where the wound was festering.  Nim could smell the rot and she had to bit her lip to keep herself from gagging at the smell.  She closed her eyes a pressed down harder trying to block out Kili’s cries.  Tauriel was quickly working about with the little bunch of herbs Bofur had brought back, twisting them between her hands and carefully ripping the wilting stocks into a fine pulp.  As the stocks were broke the air was suddenly cleansed of the smell of rot and infection.  Nim inhaled deeply the scent calming her nerves as well as it was cleaning the air.  She lifted her gaze up to meet Fili’s.  His continued to flicker between her, Tauriel and finally Kili, a fearful question in his gaze.

“You cannot rush Elvish ways.”  Nim murmured

“He’s dying.” Fili hissed, furious tears brimming in his eyes.

Tauriel hushed them with a long drawn out exhale.  She shredded the herbs twice more before she began to chant.  With each syllable the air grew heavier with each flicker of her hand flickers of static lit upon Nim’s arms.  She closed her eyes, the less thoughts clouding the air the better.  Kili began to thrash more crying out in renewed agony.  Nim pressed down harder, sure that a bruise of her palm would develop on the Dwarf’s flesh.

_Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin, hon leitho o ngurth_

Elven healing was a tricky thing.  Herbs and tonics and common healing aids were often used but they were more for little boost than anything, the bridge with witch the real magic flowed through.  It was the words, the intention behind them that gave the elves such power in this realm.  When one called for a wound to heal they were just not speaking to the air, they were commanding the very essence of themselves and the patient to do their will.  You must know yourself to your very core, know that the words you speak and the request you ask are real and as tangible as the world around them.

That was why Nim could not heal as Tauriel now did.  Her words were stories and half-truths, her core shrouded in darkness and deaf to her calls.  The very things that allowed elves to perform such skills, what essentially made and elf and elf, were lost to Nim.  She could not aid Kili, but she could Aid the other around them.

“May the blessing that was given to me be sent from me to him, may he be released from death." Nim translated softly pausing a moment to make sure that the magic within the air did not dissipate before she repeated it once more. 

Kili’s fighting grew lesser, the black lines of poison nearly completely gone from his flesh.  Though his eyes were still glazed they now remained trained on Tauriel, and her on him.  The way they looked upon each other made Nim’s heart squeeze in a way she disliked.  When she was sure Kili would thrash no more she carefully drew away.

*****

"I've heard tale of the wonders of elvish medicine, that was a privilege to witness."

They all sat about a somewhat repaired fireplace.  The room had been cleaned as much as it could.  Tables and chair righted, broken dishes swept away, the few corpses of orcs tossed into the water below.  Windows were still shattered and there were a dozen holes in the roof but at that moment the house couldn’t of felt more comfortable.  The eldest of the children, Sigrid, was carefully handing out chipped cups of tea.  Tilda had curled up with Nim, one little hand tangled in Nim’s snowy locks. 

“Why is your hair so white?  Are you really old?”  She asked quietly.  Her sister began to scold her but Nim smiled.

“I am indeed very old, but my hair is white because I was born that way.” 

“Why do you cut it so short?  Do you want to be a boy?” 

This brought a round of chuckles from the group and Tilda flushed dropping her hand from Nim’s hair.  Nim lifted her to resituate her.  Nim then set her tea aside and took both of Tilda’s hand’s ad returned them to her hair. 

“A long long time ago, a dear friend of mine cut my hair this way and I decided that I didn’t want it any other way.” 

“They seem nice. . . Are they and Elf like you?  Can we meet them?  I’d like them to cut my hair too.” 

Now Nim hesitated and carefully pulled Tilda’s hands from her hair.  Tilda frowned for a moment before she me Nim’s gaze.  She stared for a long moment before a wash of understanding crossed her face.  “They are gone too, like mama, aren’t they?”  Nim nodded, “What was their name?”

“Her name was Miniel.”

“I hope she cuts mama’s hair.  I think she would like that.”  Tilde said after a long stretch of silence. 

“Nim?  Kili is asking for you.”  Tauriel said softly stepping awkwardly into the little group.  She had remained glued to Kili’s side since the healing had finished.  Dabbing at his brow with a damp cloth, wiping away bits of dirt from his face and hands.  All the while both quietly spoke to one another in no more than looks and tiny gestures.

 Not even Fili had remained long, any attempts at proper conversation with her brother lost to the unknown language created between the elf and the dwarf.  Tauriel had looked perfectly at ease, rare flashed of teeth and arched brows appearing as she met Kili’s gaze.  Now though, she seemed to realized she was out of place among the dwarves.  Though she still held her shoulders high the sensation of discomfort was nearly palatable when near her.  Nim tried not to make notice of it, instead lifting Tilda up and handing her to Tauriel before offering her seat to them both.  Tauriel looked a little lost and perhaps even a bit frightened with the child in her arms but seemed to realize Nim’s intentions. This child was the perfect key to allow Tauriel and easier access to the group. 

“Your hair is pretty.”  Tilda said when they both sat, “Can you braid my hair like your?”  She asked hopefully.  Tauriel looked to Nim the other she elf just nodding for her to continue.  There were special customs to the braids of an elf’s hair, from learning to enacting.  Such a request might have seemed a bit off to Tauriel but Nim understood it as no more than an innocent gesture from a child.

As Nim joined Kili’s side she caught sight of Tauriel already carefully sectioning off bits of hair on the eager faced child.

“How are you feeling?”  Nim asked lifting a discarded brush from the floor.

“Like I was shot with an orc arrow.”  Kili teased, “I’m sorry we did wait for you.  Fili and I tried to convince uncle but he would not have it.  We were prepared to charge right back in there.” 

“You would have been recaptured in an instance.”  Nim scolded, “I am glad you did not return.  I don’t ever want to see you behind bars again.”  Nim plopped herself onto the table and set Kili’s head in her lap fanning out his hair so she could begin working the tangled from it.  A few dwarves stared at Nim in slight shock. Again, the process of styling’s one hair was important in the Dwarven communities.  Braiding reserved for the married, beard fonding for lovers, and brushing or tending to one’s hair between family.  Nim had done it often when she was living with them, and she did not realize how much she had missed the mindless act until she began working through the first knot.

“I don’t want to see you behind them either.”  Kili countered.

“Well thankfully you were out of the kingdom when that happened.”  Kili glared at her and she laughed.

Both fell silent for a time content to just get lost in the feeling of tangled being removed.  Though eventually Kili opened his eyes, “You’ll come with us, right?  When I’m a bit stronger and we can rejoin the others?”

“If that is what you want.”

“I want you to want it too Nim.  I know you don’t want to admit it but that place, those elves were important to you.  You already gave that up for us, I don’t want you giving up any more.” 

“I’d give up every last bit of my being if it meant you guys would be happy.  But I do want to go to the mountain, truly.  If I recall correctly as children, you promised me I could swim in gold.” 

Kili chuckled but it ended with a cough.

“Here drink, It’s honey water.”

“Where did you get honey around here?”  Kili muttered allowing Nim to hold the glass to his lips.

“From my pack.  Bilbo was kind enough to fill my bag with goodies he pilfered from the kitchen in Mirkwood.  I like that hobbit, he seems like good people.  Doesn’t act all in awe at the sight of an elf.  Most hobbits I’ve met were quite almost scared.”

“That’s our burglar.  Did he tell you how he took on a warg and its rider?  All on his own.  Not a lick of training in him.  Nearly got himself killed too.”  Kili gave a broken cough filled laugh.

“What a sight that would have been.”  Nim mused her eyes drawn to Tauriel who was now, very carefully, showing off one of her daggers to the son Bain.  “You know who else is good people?” She asked.  Kili arched his head back to look where she was and quickly dropped it back down.

“S-she’s just an elf.” 

“Who saved your life.”

“You saved my life.” Kili protested but already there was a flush to his cheeks. 

“You don’t need to hide your feeling from me, _Khâzash._   The only thing I care for is that you find joy in your life.”  Nim spoke this especially quietly, with her brushing hair and speaking of their language the dwarves were all tuning into the conversation.  Kili, though, seemed to deflate as he looked up at Nim.

“I don’t know what it is about her. . . I’ve hardly spoken to her, yet the mere thought of her makes my heart race.”

“That is love.” Nim chuckled pulling a bit of grass from his hair, “It rarely ever makes sense but when you feel it. . .” Nim paused the flash of flaxen hair and icy eyes clouding her mind, “You shouldn’t ignore it, ever.  No matter what others will think.”

“What would she ever see in me?  I’m a dirty old dwarf.  I hardly come to her middle!”

Nim suppressed her laughter, they would be an interesting pair to say the least, but so long as they found happiness.  “I assure you, little brother, there is something in you she seems unable to look away from.” 

“You really th- “

Kili’s words were drowned out by a deep bellow.  The sudden spike of fear that chased up her spine had her on her feet and out the door before the others were full registering what was happening.  Toron was limping outside trying to figure out a way up the rickety steps.

“Toron are you mad!  I told you to be careful!” Nim darted down the steps pushing the stag back.  Toron continued to bleat and bellow seemingly so lost in his panic that words were lost to him.  Nim was forced to grab at his antlers and wrestle his head still so that their eyes could meet properly.

“Speak, stag.”

 _Dragon_ \- His words were but a whisper but they seemed to call upon the beast its massive form rocketing above them before it released a belly of flames onto another part of the city.  Nim’s throat closed as she watched the flames spread and the creature sore higher into the air readying for another swoop. 

 _DRAGON_   Toron bellowed throwing himself away from Nim before he clumsily tried to urge her onto his back.  His antlers tore at the back of her shirt as she struggled to get away.  _Little one we must go now!_

“The children!  You must get the children out! Sigird! Tilda! Bain!”  Nim shouted for the three, Tauriel already ushering them out the dwarves quick behind them. 

 _I am not leaving you here!_  

“You will do as you are told!” The sharp edge in her tone stilled Toron and he stared at her for what fel like forever.  “Quickly children on his back.” Nim said turning around and scooping Tilda up and nearly tossing her onto the great creatures back.

“Bain ran off!  Sigrid protested but Nim lifted her anyway,  “My brother!  We cannot leave him!”

“I will find your brother, you must get to shore!”  The dragon swooped again emptying flames closer than before, the wind from his wings nearly throwing Nim to the ground.  “I will find your brother!  I swear by it!  Now go!  Toron, Go!”

Toron stared a second more before turning and leaping into the water.  Nim hardly watched though her eyes trained on the creature that was soring high once more, his chest ablaze.  He dived down once more setting another part of the town ablaze.  Already the smell of burning flesh was palatable.

“You cannot remain here for the boy.”  Tauriel protested taking her arm.

“I must try, the town is not lost yet.”  Tauriel tried to protest but Nim all but pushed her into the boat, “Get my brothers to safety.  I will find you on the shore.  Make sure those children are safe.”  She ordered finally taking two steps backwards to make sure Tauriel did not give chase before she took off down the boardwalk. 

This time Nim was tossed to the wood the dragon sweeping so low that has she been on the stairs she could have brushed its belly with her fingers.  Black smoke and anguished cried followed wherever he went.  Nim had grabbed onto another as the creature had passed but as she raised her head to look the man was lifeless though her body held no real wounds.  Carefully, she shut the man’s eyes, unable to bear that sightless gaze.  Smoke was now heavy in the air, leaving even her elven gaze to no more than a yard or so in any direction.  She brought a sleeve to her mouth and nose in an attempt to filter the ash. 

All over people in boats were struggling to flee from the carnage around them.  Other simply dove into the water in hopes of swimming, while others jumped to extinguish the flames upon them.  Families tried for missing members, either lost in the cause of bodies or killed in the devastation.  Others tried to pulled injured and dying members onto boats only to have them ripped away by others with a better chance of surviving.  She passed a woman clutching her lifeless infant.  A child wailed next to a pile of rubble struggling to free himself from a man’s grasp.  His tiny hands reaching desperately for a paled one peeking out from the debris. 

For a moment Nim forgot where she was, the wood and ash replaced with mud and steel.  No longer were the people fleeing from a dragon but thundering towards an opposing army.  She shook herself forcing a deep lungful of smoke into her lungs.  The burn that followed in chased away the phantom memories. She called for the boy but her voice was lost among the hundreds of others.  Nim lifted her head and felt her blood chill.  The dragon had swooped up and was diving once more.  His maw was open wide, flames already flickering at the back of his throat.  Nim could only turn and run as she felt the heat upon her back.

The dragon released his flame.


	17. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her hand was icy when his nose brushed against it.
> 
> I will never leave your side, my Nim, my mother, my Little one. .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm just going to to apologize to you all now. IF you guys are not ready for some feels, the perhaps you should wait before reading this chapter. Cuz there are feels, lots of them, like author was crying like a baby while writing this kind of feels. 
> 
> I will never leave your side, my Nim, my mother, my Little one. .

 

Toron had always been Nim’s protector.  Since antlers had sprouted upon his head he had been there to look after the lost little elf.  He had sat through ever nightmare filled evening, kept her from harm from every waking delusion.  He listened to every delusional ramble, and took the blows she dealt to foes long since dead.  He also spent every evening listening to tales created by her about the lightning bugs that fluttered about them, got to watch the joy light upon her face as they discovered something new, or very very old. 

They had spent years soaking in hidden hot springs, decades dancing in the rain, centuries within ruins of people no longer even found in books, and millennia watching the world move around them.  And through all that time, Toron had remained by Nim’s side, looking after the broken little elf who had no one else to look to. 

Nimineth

Nim

Little One

Mother

She was his mother.  The earliest face he could recall in memories that had even begun to fade for him.  When he was too young to speak, to think, she was there.  Though he can hardly recall he knows that she suffered the same delusions, the same nightmares.  Yet after finding her he did not recall a single moment of hunger, chill, or fear.  When he grew weary she would drape him across her shoulders and carry him.  If he had given the slightest hint of want for a certain leaf or plant she would climb high into flimsy trees from the juiciest bits, walk for miles to find the sweetest fruit. 

He can still recall that day when he had first found her.  The earliest and the last clear memory of his fawn-hood.  Be it from the impact it placed upon him, or how Nim returned to it in times or worry- It had never faded even in the slightest, even after all these years.

He could just close his eyes and it would be as if he was there just the day before. 

He had been walking for a very long time.  Days, weeks, time mattered little to him then.  All he knew was that the one who had raised him was now gone and he was alone.  He believed if he just kept walking another one would come and look after him as the first had.  Though as time passed and he grew skinnier and the miles grew numerous it became evident, even to a fawn, that he was going to die.  He had kept walking though, wondering how one went about dying.  Would he just fall over and be gone?  Or would something come along and rip him in two like they had his one?  Neither thought brought much fear to him.  Even as the two beasts had grabbed his one it was only a fraction of a second before her eyes had become glassy and empty of life. 

She had just been walking too.

Then he smelt it, and for a fleeting moment he had believed it to be his one for it smelt an awful lot like her, or rather how she had smelt before she was gone. Though that thought was quickly cast away, she was in two last he had seen and he had never seen another one in half and alive.  Still he followed the scent, perhaps this one was still in one piece and could care for him. 

Toron now, could not recall what a “one” was, for he had not even the slightest recollection of anything before these few thoughts before finding Nim.  There was not even a shadowy image of a doe or any other creature caring for him in his memory before Nim. 

She was washed up on a pebbly shore of a wide river.  He realized now she smelt different from his one.  Like sickness and rot.  She looked no better than his one, her exposed flesh looking as if she was no more than the remains from some large predator.  Blood was still leaking into the water creating small swirls of faded pink before they were washed away by the mass of liquid.  Toron had feared her, he had never seen anything like her.  He hid in the grasses just watching her, wondering if she was alive or dead. 

And then she was looking at him, right at him.  And of all the ways she could have looked upon a skinny fawn, indifference, hunger. . .  she looked upon him with concern.  Even as she was she was worried for him.  Had reached out a bony limb and had cooed, offered pieces of soggy grass that she could grab rom around her.  It was the way that she had looked upon him though, the way that concern had never faded an instance as she lay on that shore.  Whatever pain she felt was of little concern to her when placed before a scrawny little fawn. 

So, Toron had stood and walked over to her and laid against her sodden side for warmth.  She had wrapped her arm around his tiny body and never let go again.  He had found his one once more, and though has he grew and became big, she remained small but always his one.

His Little One.

He did not know a life without her, did not want to imagine one where he had found another to raise him.  He could not recall a time where he did not feel that slight sensation of her mind tied to his own.  The way they could just look at one another and _know_ what the other was saying or feeling.  The tormented feelings Nim had suffered through were as much his own as hers.  He had felt each lashing as if it was his own, and had felt each burst of joy as well.  There was no Him without her.  There could be no him without her because he did not want to exist in a place where he did not feel her weight upon his back, or her quiet words in his ears.

So, when that little hum of her mind disappeared from his own, he fell to his knees. 

He had been carrying the two girls farther inland, where he knew an outcrop of ruined building would be.  Now though he was struggling to his hooves the girl left upon the earth and forgotten.  He bellowed a deep mournful cry.  He felt desperately for a sliver of her mind, the connection had gone numb during fits sometimes but he could always find something.  The tickle as light of a feather that reminding him that she was there.  There was nothing now, no tickle, no pull, no hum no nothing.  The last time he had been alone in his mind he had hidden in the grass from a broken elf.  It was as if the world had been shut away from him, he was as helpless as he had been then, and he had never felt more terrified. 

Already there were dozens upon dozens of people clamoring to shore, calling for loved ones.  His eyes scanned the crowd looking for the touch of snow among the soot and ash.  Everything remained a sea of grey and black.  He lifted his nose and breathed in, trying to smell her.  Damp earth and moss with the brush of old rotting wood.  All he could smell was smoke and fear.  He bellowed for her, his mind too stricken to properly speak.  His cried became lost in the multitudes of other voices.  He forced his way through them, shoving the mortals aside as if they were little more than stalks of grass.  The more he looked the more panicked he felt. None of the faces looked familiar, none of the smells reminded him of home. 

Then- At last!  The dwarf’s love.  He bellowed and the elf spun, nearly dropping the elderly woman she had been helping.  Toron searched the space around him for his mother but found it filled with emptiness.  When he met her gaze, he realized she had been doing the same.  Her head turned to the burning ruins of the town before looking back to Toron. 

“It is too dangerous.”  She protested trying to grab at his antlers and stop him, “Toron you cannot!  She would not want you to throw yourself so carelessly into danger!”  She grabbed hold of his crown and Toron yanked his head up, lifting her from the ground.

_Remove yourself from me at once or I will take you with me._

“Toron, listen to reas- “

 _She is my mother, she is_ my _reason. There is no point of my existence if she is not beside me._

“How do you not know she is on another boat?  Or searching for you somewhere else along the shore.  Toron, there are hundreds of people here.” 

Toron set the she-elf down gently.  _My mind has always been a part of hers, and now I can hear nothing but my own thoughts._

 She spoke no more as Toron passed her.  His panic had left him now, and it was now replaced with a grim determination.  He would return to his mother’s side, even if she had no breath left in this world.  He looked back as he stepped into the bitter depths.  The she elf was watching him, a statue among the rushing flow of people.  He nodded once before he waded all the way into the water and began his swim to the town. 

******

The town was no longer a town but a smoldering husk of life.  His quest was hindered by the littering of corpses.  He gingerly moved over each one and there were many to watch.  Though his quest was urgent he had no wish to desecrate the dead.  He only hoped that any who may have found him and his mother would treat them the same. 

“ _You are Forsaken!  No help will come_!”  The great beast had landed toppling buildings over as if they were little more than twigs.  Toron tilted his head to where the dragon stared.  A man stood atop a ruined tower a massive arrow within his hands, and before him stood a boy.  It took a moment for Toron to focus through the smoke but he was sure it was the boy his mother had gone back to search for.  He started for them, sure that his mother would be nearby. 

Buildings toppled around him, he longed to call for his mother but he dare not draw the attention of the beast, at least not yet.  He had to find his mother first.  He found a sort of poetic justice to losing his little one in this way.  The same way she had lost the one so dear to her.  And like here there would be no bodies to be found, no graves to be placed.  She and him would be turned to ash and become one with the world around them.  Bits and pieces of them slowly spread far and wide across the land.  They would return to all the places they had once visited, and never have to leave again.  He wondered what stories would be told of their demise.  Would they be tragic, or bitter sweet?  Will they have died in heated battle with a dragon, or will they have accepted their fate and passed on in peace?  Such stories always changed over time.  Soon their names would be lost their personalities warps, their adventures made up imaginations, but through them all he knew one thing for certain.  They would always be together in them.

The beast above bellowed and began to charge at the man, fire brimming in his chest.  Toron’s time was running thin, if the bowman succeeded the beast would be dead, and if they dragon did he would most likely return to his mountain and remove the infestation that had awoken him.  He dared a few careful bounds trying to finish the last stretch of wood between himself and the tower.  He as sure he crushed someone’s hand and sent a silent apology to the dead. 

He just wanted his mother again.  To feel her arms wrap around his neck, for her to become his one and drape him across her shoulders like he was small and carry him away from all this horribleness.  So many had seen his mother as small and frail, but Toron knew they were all so very wrong.  His mother was stronger than any other he had ever met.  If she had truly felt the need he had no doubt she would have found a way to strike the dragon down with a single fearless blow. 

His desperation returned and as he opened his mouth to call once more his eyes fell upon a flickering of white.  She was half buried in rubble a hand reaching helplessly out.  She looked . . . peaceful, as if asleep.  Toron tried to feel her but the hum between them was just as silent.  Perhaps it would end as it had begun.  The river had brought his mother to him and now the lake could wash them away. 

His time was up anyway, the bowman had hit his mark.  The dragon had launched himself into the air, wings stretching desperately into the sky.  His fearsome bellows were already becoming panic and strained.  Toron leapt the last few yards and landed before her.  Her hand was icy when his nose brushed against it.

As gently as he could he took hold of the remains of her clothing and pulled her free of the rubble.  Toron checked the sky, time seemed to be moving slower now, the dragon had reached his peak and seemed to hover there, Caught between life and death.  He carefully lay Nim upon the boardwalk trying to make it look as if she was truly sleeping, then he gently laid down beside her and nuzzled her close.  He looked up to see the creature begin his dying decent.  Toron rested his head over her body, his antler creating the wall of thorns that had always brought her comfort in the night.  He moved only once, to pull her hand up onto his side and rest her head upon his leg.  Then he fell still and waited. 

 _I will never leave your side, my Nim, my mother, my Little one. . ._   

The earth seemed to roar and writhe in protests as the creature landed.  The wood around them heaved And Toron clutched her close.  For a moment they seemed to fly and then they were engulfed in the water.  Toron inhaled deeply, his lungs crying out in protest as they were flooded with water.  It took but a second and Toron felt his mind faltering, his gaze quickly starting to go black.  He embraced the growing darkness as they tumbled through the wreckage below the surface.  May they be pinned in the deepest depths and never be found, nor separated. 

As the last fleeting touches of consciousness left him, his heart faltering, he felt his one’s hands wrap around him and hold him just as tightly.

*****

Toron wretch, whatever was shoved down his throat coming up with rivers of lake water.  The thing was persistent though, the object was forced back down and he gagged again more water splattering the frost covered ground before him.  He tried to move his head, to stop the object but it was firm and he felt too weak.  He even tried to stand but got little more than an inch off the ground before he tumbled back down is sprawled limbs shaking.  The thing returned and he tried to protest as he was forced to vomit once more, this time only a small portion of water and some dribbles of bile left him.

Toron sucked in a breath as he was spared another assault.  His lungs heaved has they took in the oxygen they so desperately craved.  For a time, he laid there drinking in the delicious air as he tried to right himself.  When he could slow his breath a bit a hand gently brushed against his face, it reeked of bile but he did not turn his head away.  Instead he leaned desperately into it. 

­ _Mot-_

“Shh.”  Nim whispered, she leaned in close so that he could see her better.  His vision was still too unfocused to see her clearly but her could see her hair, darkened with water but as white as the first snow.  “Don’t talk, your throat is going to be sore for a while.  I had to get the water out of your lungs.”  Her fingers brushed against his face again, he knew he should make some sort of quip but he was too tired too. 

“What were you thinking?” Nim asked then pressing her face to his.  Toron did not have to speak because he knew that she could understand his thoughts as clearly as her own.  “Don’t you ever be so foolish again.  Do you understand me.”  Her whispers became choked, her tears felt like fire on his flesh.  “I almost lost you, do you hear me you stupid deer?  You were not breathing, I couldn’t get the water out of you . . . “Her lips trembled against his cheek as she struggled to keep herself composed. 

Toron lifted his head slowly, his whole body protesting at the movement, I _would never leave you side, little one._ His head flopped into her lap and she let out a watery laugh. 

“I am still furious with you.”  She bit out as she wrapped her arms around his neck and effortlessly lifted his great head so she could hug him.  Her grip was like iron nearly cutting the air off to him once more before she let go.  IT was one of the few times Toron wished he had proper arms so he could hug her just as tightly.

“Nothing is broken thankfully.”  Nim breathed when she set his head back down. “though your back leg looks rather swollen.”  Her fingers continued to trace around his eyes and snout as if making sure he was still there.  Her fingers becoming just a tad bit more insistent when he closed his eyes for a moment too long.

 _Where have the mortals gone?_   He murmured despite the scolding hush Nim sent at him.

“To the ruins of Dale, it is the only place there is left to shelter from the cold.” 

Toron nodded his head slowly before he carefully began to pull his legs under himself properly.  Nim protested the whole time, trying to keep him laying down.  Her insistent tugs were hardly a fight against him.  Even as weak as he was Toron was a powerful beast.  At his full height his legs trembled for a moment before he took a few careful steps.  When his legs did not give out a took a few more proper ones.  Nim remained where she sat on the earth.  Toron rounded to her and bowed his head.

“I am not riding you.” Nim huffed turning her head away.

 _You cannot walk.  You are poor at hiding your pain.  Its fire touched you didn’t it?_ He began to move to view her back but Nim scooted to stay facing him.  She winced with each movement.  After a few minutes of this game Toron huffed and stood over her so all he had to do was look down. 

His heart fluttered in his chest.

The lower portion of her back was black, cooked.  Though it had thankfully not burned her down to the bone enough of the flesh had been damaged it was likely that her old scaring would be deepened by this new one. 

 _You need healing, now do not fight me I am tired._   Toron held her gaze for a moment before Nim carefully lifted her arms and took hold of his antlers.  He knew lifting her would bring her a great deal of pain, but he knew that at least this way she could rest upon his back as they moved to join the others.

*****

“I saw something when we were underwater.”  Nim murmured, half asleep on his back.  She had been talking on and off as if she was frightened to fall asleep.

 _What did you see little one?_   Toron asked, he was feeling stronger already.  Though she was weak and injured his little one was alive!  He would climb a hundred mountains right now if she asked it of him.  Her mere presence gave him the strength to move forward, though slowly. 

“A tree.”  Nim hummed her voice drifting off.  For a minute Toron thought her asleep before she began to speak again.  “It was massive, it’s trunk so big I couldn’t even wrap my arms around it.  Its bark was white and when I reached up it was like I was grabbing hold of your antlers.  I climbed higher and higher, the tree seemed to never end.  But I kept going and then. . . And then I was holding onto you.”

 _Perhaps I am a tree then._   Toron mused and Nim chuckled sleepily.  _Rest little one, just hold onto my branches and I will never leave your side._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea. . . it hurt me too to write this. It wasn't suppose to be this angsty but out of all the characters I have ever written for Toron is the one who always does his own thing. . . like literally. I couldn't control the bastard if I wanted to.


	18. Burned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will crush you! You will be nothing more than a stain upon my hooves!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here is a little birthday present from me! I figured I'd do it hobbit style and give out a gift on my birthday instead of receiving them! (Btw i am 22 today! huzza)

 

“Oh no! oh no no no!”

_My little one is injured, she needs aid._

“We got our own injured we are dealing with.  The last thing we need is another useless case soaking up all the resources for us healthy folk.”

 _You need to move, rat._   Toron bowed his head and bared his dull teeth.  _She is hurt and she needs aid, you are blocking that aid and I will not lose an ounce of sleep if I must crush you to get to it._  

“Now you listen here you-

“Alfred?  What is going on?”  A man dressed in still damp clothing trotted down from the ruins with a few others behind him.

“Oh!  Master. Thank goodness you are here.” The weasely man sighed dramatically, “These. . . these heath- “

“Nim!”

Tilda appeared behind the arriving man’s leg.  At the sight of the sleeping elf she bounded out and ran to the stag’s side.  She tried to grab at Nim’s hand but the creature was too tall for her to properly reach.  Toron dropped his head down and nosed the little girl.  She giggled and grabbed at her snout.  The gentleman arched a brow at their protestor before walking over.

“So, you are the creature who saved my daughters.  I owe you a great dept.”

 _And one I wish to cash in now._   Toron rumbled seeming to catch the man off guard, _My little one is injured, she needs aid._

“Of course, Right this way.”  He casted his eyes to the sleeping form on his back, “Our resources are limited I’m afraid.”

_Anything you can spare.  She is strong but she has exhausted herself._

The man, who introduced himself of Bard lead the stag deeper into the ruined town.  As Toron passed the man known as Alfred he snorted and clicked his teeth in a mock bit at him.  The man jumped back nearly falling over himself to avoid the creature’s teeth.  Toron followed after the makeshift leader with a smug skip to his step. 

Tilda had forged ahead calling for her siblings and declaring their arrival.  Bard walked, somewhat awkwardly, next to Toron.  His eyes continued to go to Nim, and more importantly the expanse of flesh across her back.  Toron wish he had a blanket to cover her, if Nim was aware that other could see her wounds she would have been lost to another scream filled fit. 

Perhaps it was best she was asleep.

“I’ll leave you with the he- “

 _You will provide her aid._   Toron insisted already nosing his way into one of the ruined buildings. His eyes scanned the crumbling walls.  There were holes but they were large and Toron would be able to spot any who drew near.

“I am not a medic. . . “

 _I do not need a medic, I need someone with hands to dress her wounds._ Toron shoulder his way into the small space.  _Clean them with some snow, put the salve in my pack on them and then wrap them with cloth.  You look like a man who has done battle, surely you know those simple tasks._

“But wouldn’t she be more comfortable with a woman. . .” 

 _Little one is not shy, modesty means little to her.  Though she would prefer the less to see her than more._   Toron carefully lowered himself onto the cracking stone.  _Quickly now before she awakens.  Her pain will unbearable if the wound is not tended before then._

Bard relented and disappeared for a moment, returning with a bucket of water and some clean-ish cloth. He crouched next to Toron and finished removing the last bits of her top.  He hesitated over the blackened flesh uncertain of where to start. 

 _It will need to be removed one way or another.  It would be best to remove it now before the salve makes it to soft._   Toron sighed.  Bard nodded and dragged the cloth down the length of black.  Pieces chipped away to reveal raw flesh and muscle.  Bard winced at the wound as more of it was revealed.  Toron kept his eyes averted, focused on the stone wall as he tried to see what Nim saw in her sleep. 

It was a simple dream.  He was but a fawn and she was just beginning to heal.  The sun was blazing that day so they had dived into a lake.  The water had been like ice and it had felt amazing on their heated flesh.  It was only now that he realized that the handful of buildings would one day grow to become the town they now stood within.  The water was so clear back then, you could see all the way down to the pebbly bottom.  Toron wonder what a sight it would be if the water was the same today, to see that great beast that now resided at its bottom, smoke still bubbling from its great chest.

“She has been asleep some time, hasn’t she?” Bard’s voice brought Toron from the memory, “I did not think Elves needed as much sleep, but I suppose such traumatic times. . . “

 _She stopped sleeping long ago, now she is simply. . . remembering._ Toron said fondly.  _Your kind would call it daydreaming, but instead of being just in memory she can relive it as if it were happening now._

“Can all elves do that?”

_Perhaps in some form or another, but I am sure little one’s skills in such acts surpasses many.  She will return to this realm when it is needed.  For now I’d like for her to avoid the coming pain for as long as possible._

“This will take a great deal of time to heal, even for an elf.” He chipped away at more of the blackened flesh but his eyes continued to linger on the rolling hills and valleys of scars that had managed to remain untouched by the flames.  “I do not suppose asking will bring me any answers?”

 _No._   Toron bit out the word making it clear that even hedging around the topic would not be tolerated.  Bard continued his task in silence then, realizing he had struck a taught cord.  He managed to remove the worst of the black and dug through Toron’s saddle bags pulling free several jars of liquids and creams.  At his confusion Toron snorted and pointed out the one he needed.

“Some of these containers look ancient.”

 _Some of them probably are._   Toron mused skillfully lifting each container and returning them to their rightful place.  _Little one holds on to few things, and I even less so. But when we do find something we deem worth keeping we have difficulty letting go._

As bard started to apply the salve Toron dug into the bags on his other side.  Everything was damp and soggy but Toron nosed past them to the very bottom of his pack.  He came free with a small gemstone pale purple in color clutched gently between his teeth.  He dropped the jewel at Bard’s side.

 _I found this in the river my little one came to me in.  that was over three thousand years ago.  I have carried it with me ever since._   Toron nudged it so it rolled closer to the man.  _Now take it as my thanks._

“I could not- “

 _You do not turn down the gift of a king._ Toron said shortly and looked away.  _Besides, it is little more than a keepsake to me, but it may be worth much more to you.  Not enough to feed your village but at least it is a start._

Bard cleaned his hands and carefully lifted the little gemstone, it was a little bigger than the first half of his pinky but he was sure the price would at least fetch his people food for a day or two.  With a nod of thanks, he tucked the jewel away.  Unsure of what to say he grabbed for the cloth.  Toron shifted hooking an antler around Nim’s shoulders and lifting her so Bard could wrap the wounds better. 

“She will need a great deal of rest for these to heal properly.” Bard said as he began to cover the wound.  A task, Toron assumed would have been made much easier if the man actually looked at Nim instead of adverting his eyes anytime he had to wrap around her front.   Toron made no comment though, mortals were strange creatures.

“Alright, that is the last of it.”  Bard said as Toron lowered Nim back down onto his back.  “I think we can find someplace secluded for her to rest as well- “

 _No, she will be more than alright with the other injured.  She will only need such privacy when the time comes to change the bandages._   Toron got to his hooves and was grateful when Bard shed his jacket and draped it over Nim. 

“Then we put our makeshift medical ward this way.”  Bard lead him out into the street and deeper into the town. 

Nim stirred once or twice her eyes flickering open and scanning the surroundings.  Toron would sooth her with a brush of her snout and get fragments of the different memory Nim would wrap herself in.  He was sure it did not free her mind completely of the pain but it would at least make it bearable for her. 

Inside the large building, which must have been a town hall at one point or another, dozens and dozens of people sat and laid.  All were in varying forms of injury and distress.  Bard motioned for an elderly woman who was quick to lay out a blanket for Nim to rest upon. 

Toron had hoped to see the dwarf’s love here, healing as she had so spectacularly done with the youngest of the wild things.  _Have you seen other elves, or even dwarves perhaps?_   Toron questioned as he crouched so that Bard could reach his little one. 

“The dwarves went in search of their own survivors in the mountain.  Some messenger was sent for the elves but they sent him away and went off elsewhere.”  Bard answered carefully laying Nim down so his jacket would not slip from her body.  “I will fetch her a proper shirt when I get the chance.”  Bard promised, “For now she can rest here.”

_I thank you again, I know your supplies must be limited._

“They are.”  Bard gave a strained smile, “But that does not mean we can turn away those who are in need.” 

Bard excused himself and Toron laid down next to his memory wrapped elf.  He was content to watch over her, as he had done many times before.  He only had a moment though before tinny arms were grabbing onto his neck and pressing a child’s face into his fur. 

“Tilda, what did I tell you!” Sigrid followed in with a scolding tone. 

The smallest of the three pulled back with a toothy grin, “Ello big deer, thank you for saving us, and Nim too!”

Toron chuckled.  _Protecting my little one is my duty.  Looking after you and your sister was just a bonus little daisy._

“My name isn’t daisy.” Tilda frowned, “It’s Tilda, and that is Sigrid and that is Bane.”  She pointed to her brother and sister.

 _I am aware of your names, little one told me a great deal of you when we were making our way here.  But I do not use names, they are to ridged. They do not change with the person as they grow, I look at who one is and call them by what I see._   Tilda had wrapped her arms around his snout and giggled as he lifted her slightly off her feet.  _You are little daisy, something small and sweet._   He set Tilda on her feet and turned his head to Sigrid.  _The young rose, not quite in full bloom but fierce in her own right._

 He then turned to the boy, Bane, Little one had called him.  He had hung back from his sisters and stood shuffling his feet and watching his toes.  Now though, Bane was staring at him uncertainly.  _And the young knight, still learning his strength but brave all the same._

“I don’t feel much like a knight.” Bane said quickly dropping his eyes.  Sigrid frowned as she turned to her younger brother.

“Why do you not feel like a knight?”  It was not Sigrid who spoke, but Nim.  She lay with her hands under her chin for a moment before her hands wormed through the sleeves of her borrowed top.  “Toron is rarely wrong with his first impressions. “

“Sigrid told me how you got hurt.” Bane said after a quiet moment, “If I hadn’t of taken off like I did yo- “

“You would not have been there to help your father slay that dragon.” Nim’s hands shifted again and they buttoned the first few important buttons before she carefully began to scoot her legs under herself.  Toron grunted in protest at her movement, could hear the way her raw flesh protested as it was forced to move.  Nim was not deterred though and was soon sitting on her knees. 

“You saved lives Bane.  Had Smaug not been slayed when he was there was no telling what he would have done.  He could have gone after all those who had fled to the shore.”

“But you are all burned up!” Bane protested.  “You gave up your only way out to save my sisters and all I did was get you really hurt!”

Nim frowned and motioned for him to come closer. Bane stepped closer but when Nim was not satisfied Toron nipped at his sleeve and drug him so Nim could place her arms on his shoulder.  “I am very very old, and if there is one thing that I have learned as a fact of life it is that pain will happen.  You will never be able to save everyone, never be able to keep everyone safe from harm.  That does not make you any less of a knight. What makes you a knight is the fact that you will go into battle again knowing that there will always be people to save.  Look at all you have helped save.” Nim motioned to the crowded room and Bane looked out over them,  “You helped make sure that they got another day.  Those we have lost are gone and we can gain nothing by hating ourselves for losing them.  We can become better by knowing that we have saved others, have given a chance to some who may not have had that chance.” 

 _A knight is not a hero, he is a protector of the good no matter the risk.  You risked all to protect your people.  Be proud of that child._  

Bane nodded a couple times and Nim let him step back.

“I’m sorry we woke you.”  Sigrid finally spoke up, “Tilda was just worried sick when she saw you come into town.  I’m glad you are okay.  We will let you rest.” Sigrid wrapped her arms around her sister to bring her from her careful hug of the elf.  Tilde had begun to protest but fell silent at her sisters stern glance. 

“We’ll bring you dinner okay?” Tilda said as her sister walked her out.  Nim waved her hand in farewell before carefully laying herself back down with a groan. 

Toron withheld any scolding he may have had for his little one in turn to lay his head down next to her own.  He wanted to rest his head upon her like he normally would, but feared any weight upon even her uninjured flesh would cause too much strain on that which was.  Nim stroked his cheek absently as her own mind began to wonder.  Toron let her pull his own mind into another memory.  It involved a game of tag with a group of village children.  The memory was so clear Toron could still smell the wildflowers that filled the field they had romped around in. 

Little one had always loved children.  They were simpler creatures, unburdened by the struggles of life and brimming with potential for anything and everything.  It was children that she met most often, though there were few children in her journal now.  They were always the most fearless to greet her, so unintimidated by the fact that Nim was older than they could have ever dreamed.  All they saw was a new friend and didn’t need to know much more than that.

The children returned around meal time with a soup that was more broth than anything.  Nim drank it none the less and allowed the children to lay around her as she recounted various tales that were half-truth have fantasy.  They seemed enthralled all the same.  Eventually word spread and the already crowded room was filled even more as people came to listen to her tales.  At first Toron was alert to any signs of distress from his charge but Nim seemed at ease, content with the crowding people.  It was a distraction, for all of them.  From the pain and the suffering and all the dark things that had happen a day prior.  Little one seemed all too content to allow them to be lost in her tales.  Though eventually even she grew tired and people began to trickle away.

 _Many will sleep peacefully tonight with your stories in their minds._   Toron murmured carefully pulling another blanket over his little one.  The ruins were drafty and even an elf could get cold.  Bard had checked on her bandages before he had decided to retire, but Nim had deemed them good until the morning.  Toron wished she had not.  Though there was little blood there were sickly yellow stains that were beginning to appear through the lengths of cloth.  She had though, accepted the plain white shirt he offered her in exchange for her coat.  It was tattered and shredded at the bottom but the bandages would cover anything Nim did not wish to be seen.

“I feel rather useless right now.  I wish to help but I can hardly sit up without great pain.”  She sighed and pillowed her arms under her, “Rest yourself too Toron, I know your body aches as much as my own.”

The stag obeyed suddenly feeling waves of exhaustion wash over him.  He lay his head next to his little one’s once more.  She reached out a hand and as his eye touched he was swept away into a dream of her doing.  A warm summer day where they had lazed about in a field full of soft grass.  They had done nothing but doze the entire afternoon.

******

Toron had slept deeply, far deeper than he had in years.  He woke with a yawn and he inhaled the scent of wilted grass.  Someone had gathered it and placed it before his nose.  Though it did not look appetizing in the least, the stocks limp and lifeless, he dug in nonetheless.  Food was food and he could not be picky now.  He managed to get two mouthfuls in before a morning breeze came in and he caught that smell. 

“Toron.”  Nim was already awake, sitting in the dawns early rays like a statue. 

For a moment, a part of Toron wanted to listen to his little one but a far louder and more vengeful side was shouting in his mind.  He sucked in heaving breaths and Nim tried to calm him with gentle strokes to his side.  It seemed to only anger him more as each breath seemed to smell more and more of _him._

_I will kill him._

Nim cried for him to stop but Toron was already on his hooves charging through an opening in the wall and nearly taking out several dozen elves in the process.  He skidded to a stop a few feet from the makeshift medical ward and took in the hundreds of elves that stood at attention.  He had brought an army! Did he really believe that these little twigs would stop him from his goal?

“Toron no wait!” Nim had managed to get to her feet and was slowly climbing over the ruined wall.  “Now is not the time- “

Toron bellowed and lowered his head, the only warning he gave before he charged once more.  Elves fell back in fright at the great beast, Toron was sure he crushed a few toes on his rampage.  _His_ scent grew stronger and it fueled Toron forward tossing away a few elves who had dared to draw their blades in an attempt to stop him.  His little one continued to shout for him but it only made him push harder.  She was too good to feel the rage she should feel, was not strong enough to take the revenge she was owed.

He was strong enough though.  He would be the flames of the brilliant dragon that was Nim.  The talons and claws that took vengeful justice.  He would give no mercy. 

The elf came into sight and Toron slid to a stop drawing the attention of both the dragon slayer and the bastard.  Toron bellowed deep and furiously and shook his antlers out in a threat display.  The elf had wisely remained on his mount but that meant little to Toron.  The creature was large but it would only take one good jerk to remove its rider. 

“Toron stop!” 

Nim’s voice was full of command but it was like she had released the fine barrier for the stag.  He bowed his head and charged forward ramming into the elk and lifting it off its front hooves.  The creature recovered quickly though thrusting back down and twisting his head to shove toron back.

 _I will crush you! You will be nothing more than a stain upon my hooves!_   Toron shouted rearing up and crashing his head back into the elk.  He thrashed his head from side to side trying to remove the vile that road it.  _I gave you an undeserved pardon.  You should have accepted my grace!_ The elk stood its ground refusing to let its legs tangle as Toron shoved it about.  A small part of him felt bad, he did not want to hurt the creature, but it was in his way.

“ _Aras mel,_ _Henig,_ _daro An ngell nîn_.*” 

All of Nim’s shouting had gone on deaf ears until that moment.  Her quiet whispers had cut through Toron’s rage like a hot blade.  He jerked away from the elk and turned his head to look upon his little one.

_He hurt you._

“Many have harmed me, Aras Mel, Do not allow his hurts to be any more than the others.  He does not deserve such power.” Toron held her gaze for a moment more before he took two steps back.  Nim opened her arms and Toron returned to them.  He pressed his face into her cheek. 

_For you little one, I will quench these flames and let him be.  Though he does not deserve it._

Bard had remained in stunned silent through the exchange but now found his voice, “You know this elf Nim?”

“She released the dwarves that brought ruin to your lands.”  Thranduil supplied raking a hand through his ruffled hair.  His face remained eerily unmoved by his attacker, but Nim could see the way his chest rose and fell with rapid succession.

“I freed them from your injustice.” Nim said back, just as calmly.  “Had you let them pass through your lands they may not have been separated, perhaps with their proper numbers they would of stopped the dragon.”

“A handful of dwarves kill a dragon?” Thranduil scoffed.

“It took but one man to do it.”  Nim challenged, “With but a single arrow that could pierce it’s iron hide.”  Her eyes went to bard, and though she kept her face impassive she could not help a bit of regret to seep into her gaze.  In a small way she was still part of the events that led up to so much death. 

“I don’t blame you Nimineth.”  Bard said gently, “No one could have known this would happen.”

Thranduil arched a brow and parted his lips to speak but Nim cut him off. Her face contorted int a sneer, “Oh yes your majesty, all knowing and powerful.  Of course, you knew.” She spat.  It was the first time Nim had ever bothered to use and formal title for him.  It left a sour taste in Thranduil’s mouth, as if she had given no greater insult.

Nim gave a curt nod to Bard and then turned away.  The bandages had blended in with the ruined top Thranduil mistook them for the shirt itself.  Now though, with her back to him he could see the blood.  The fresh red splotches that now shown like a beacon upon her lower back.  Part of them had moved appart revealing a small gap of raw and angry flesh.

Thranduil felt his breath slip away from him, “What in Valar’s name happened to you.”  He gasped dismounting from his elk.  He tried to breech the gap between them, stop her slow retreat.  Toron stepped before him though, tossing his head furiously.

_You will go no further.  I may not be able to fulfil my promise but I will be dead before I let you near her again._

“Nim, your wounds.  You have broken them all open.”  Bard scolded carefully grabbing at a loose piece of cloth and pulling them away to reveal the wound.  “We need to get these changed.”  He added, “Excuse up Lord Thranduil, I must attend to Nimineth.”

“What good can you do, you are mortal.  She needs elven aid.”  Thranduil protested risking another step towards them.  Toron growled a warning. 

“He is more than capable of tending to a few burns.  Off you go _Lord_ Thranduil.  Perhaps you have other’s you need to imprison.”  She huffed and let Bard lead her away, Toron tailing them closely. 

*******

“Get out.”  Nim hissed at the slight rustle of cloth in the doorway. 

Bard had found a secluded room in which to redress Nim’s wounds.  He winced sympathetically when he pulled them off, more bits of dead flesh peeling away with them.  Nim had remained resalutly silent, and still as stone.  Any attempt at questioning from Bard fell on deaf ears and eventually he fell silent until his work was done. 

“Rest here for a moment.  I want your wounds to settle before you return to the medical ward.  What were you thinking getting up and moving like that?”  He knew he would get no answer and left the silent elf to brood.

It was shortly after that when she heard a new brush of fabric.  She did not need to look up to know it was Thranduil.  Even from here she could smell the sour sweet scent of wine, a smell that seemed to always linger about him even if he had not a sip of it that day.  He continued inward though, his eyes scanning the room to make sure Toron was not about.  Nim had sent the creature back to the makeshift medical ward to eat the rest of his forgotten breakfast.

“These mortals can do little for such a wound.”  Thranduil began carefully.

“He has managed to prevent infection thus far.” 

“Is your distaste for me so great now that you would allow death to come than accept my aid?  Such a wound could kill an elf.”

Nim had wanted to remain silent but her anger bubbled up and she whipped around to face him, “You put me in a cage!  I screamed in agony for _hours._   You have no idea the torment you put me through, my scars still ache with the memory.”  She snapped, “You did nothing, you just let me suffer.  Do not act as if I was important to you!  I was little more than a charity case for you, the little broken elf the great _lord_ managed to train into a proper elf.” 

“It was never like that.”  Thranduil insisted.

“Do not lie you my face!” Nim shouted, “I knew you would be angry at my actions but even I was sure you had a heart functional enough to not let such cruelty take place!”

“These wounds could kill you.”  Thranduil tried again.

“You do not care.”

“Don’t you dare say that.” Thranduil whispered. 

It took him all but two steps to cross the room before he was upon Nim.  Her face had contorted to a renewed sneer and she had begun to part her lips with another cruel word.  Thranduil took her chin firmly in one hand and with a graceful bow stole away any words Nim could have spoken with his lips.  Nim had turned to stone but had not attempted to pull away or fight him.  He held his lips to hers for a moment more before he pulled back and pressed his forehead to her own. 

“I damn this icy heart of mine.  I have done nothing but worry after you since you left my halls.  And when the dragon attacked I felt as if it was burning me alive.  You know not the relief I felt when I saw you alive.”

Something damp brushed against his cheek and he pulled away.  Nim had begun to weep.  What anger or spitefulness she had once displayed had melted away leaving a tired looking elf.  The look was no so different from the one she had given him the day he realized who she was.  The broken little elf hidden behind the storyteller.  Ravaged by abuse and torment of her own mind. 

Thranduil reached to brush away one of the damp streaks but Nim turned her head before he could touch her.  For a moment, he let his hand hang there before he brought it back to his side.  The wall she once had was not gone, but a new one seemed to have taken its place.  This one made of glass so that Thranduil could see all her suffering but be left powerless to stop it. 

“Get out.”  Nim said finally. 

“Do you feel nothing?”

I said get out.”  Nim snapped the anger returning.

“Nimineth-“

“I do not want to feel anything for you!  Now remove yourself from my sight before I allow Toron to finish what he had started!” She threatened. 

Thranduil stepped back, unable to look away.  Nim had continued to weep through her shouting and as he moved back to the door the tears grew more forcefully.  As he finally turned away and stepped back into the unsheltered road he heard the faintest of sobs come from within. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aras mel, Henig, daro An ngell nîn. -"Beloved fawn(deer), my child, please stop."


	19. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps it is time we move on. Toron’s voice broke through Nim’s growing agitation  
> They could leave right then, forgo any supplies and live of the land, they had done it before. Leave without a word.

 

“Why are you sopping wet?” Sigrid gasped as Nim and Toron trudged into the great hall.  “Your wound is going to get infected!  Quickly we must get you to father.”  The young girl ordered, leaving little room for Nim to protest. 

Sigrid was a natural hen, Nim had come to realize, constantly pecking about her chicks.  Though instead of just her brother and sister she had decidedly taken on the task of pecking about anyone she deemed less mature than her.  After a near food fight started by Nim the evening prior the elf had found herself at the top of the mother hen’s list.    

As Sigrid took her hand and began leading her back out into the chilled evening, Nim hesitated.  The villager stared at her, their eyes darting to one another as quiet whispers began to break out among the normal conversations.  There was something accusatory in their gaze, though not out rightly so, Nim could still feel it digging into her flesh.  It was the elves’ lack of looking that deepened the feeling.  They all suddenly seemed busy with their tasks, passing out food or tending to wounds.  Any set of eyes she tried to meet of either group looked away. 

Something caught in Nim’s chest as her gaze swept over the room of people.  It hung on her collar bone like a weight making movement feel awkward and breath somewhat difficult.  Before she could begin to understand what the sensation was, Sigrid was tugging at her hand and leading her away.  She followed mutely as Sigrid continued to mutter under her breath out illnesses and infections and foolishness.  Some part of Nim wanted to point out that, as an elf, she was immune to such things as illnesses of the body.  The tease never passed her lips though, deciding it was better to let the little hen do the job she believed she needed to do.  And did it she did.  With her chin held high she marched Nim up to an elaborate tent and pushed her way through the flaps, pointedly ignoring the guards. 

Both Bard and Thranduil lifted their heads from whatever conversation they were having when the two girls entered.  Thranduil arched a brow at the young mortal’s blatant intrusion, it brought a smirk to Nim’s lip.  Not only because the little girl had annoyed Thranduil but because Sigrid was bold enough to do something few others would have dared to do.  Though Nim’s smugness was short lived as suddenly the girl shrunk back, embarrassed.

“Did you decide to go swimming?” Thranduil balked, taking in Nim’s soaked appearance. 

“Could you redo my bandages?”  Nim asked surprised by her own subdued tone.  The weight in her chest had only grown heavier in the presence of the two men.  It seemed to teal her voice away. “I know you just redid them but I had to fetch my bag.”  Nim lifted the dripping mass of worn wet leather in her hands.  Mud dripped from one corner, staining Thranduil’s rugs.  Nim fidgeted nervously with a large splinter of wood that pierce the upper corner of her possession.

Her eyes went to Bard who quickly dropped his own before lifting them up again to meet hers.  There was something different there in his expression.  It made that weight press against her lungs.  When he parted his lips to finally speak Thranduil broke in.

“I’ll fetch a healer- “

“No.” Nim bit out quickly, cutting Thranduil off before he could even turn to call on another elf.  “I don’t want your help.  If Bard cannot help me, I’ll do it on my own.” Nim pulled her hand away from Sigrid and quickly removed herself from the tent.  She didn’t know if anyone followed her, didn’t bother to check.  All she cared about was lessening the weight on her chest that quickly felt as if it were suffocating her.  She reached wordlessly for Toron and once his antlers were in hand he lifted her onto his back and trotted off.

For a while she just let Toron carry her throughout the ruins.  She thought of going to the great hall for dinner or the makeshift healers den for rest but both ideas were quickly cast aside.  They would watch her, like they had when she first stepped into the great hall.  Recalling the memory made the weight heavier and she grunted in annoyance. 

“Why are they like this now?”  Nim demanded, “What have I done?” Nim pressed her forehead into the back of Toron’s neck.  “Perhaps Thranduil was righ- “

 _Do not let that elf get into your head.  He hardly deserves the ground you walk upon let alone your thoughts._   Toron snorted stopping short. 

“But they all act . . . different.  The elves won’t even look at me.  Even Bard seemed hesitant to even help in aiding my bandages.”  Nim slid from Toron’s back finding that laying upon him only served to irritate the thing in her chest more. 

They were on the outskirts of the makeshift settlement now.  The sounds of life now a distant hum.  Her wound was beginning to hurt in earnest now and all Nim wanted to do was lay down.  Thankfully it only took a moment or two to find a bit of ruined building that was sheltered enough for them to make camp.  While Toron began to poke about gathering whatever dry wood he could find Nim set about halfheartedly clearing away a space for her to sit. 

When Toron triumphantly dropped the last twigs onto his large wood stock he dug into his saddle bags and pulled free a bit of flint.  Nim make a proper fire pit and after a few tries with the damp stone managed to spark the kindling and bring a fire to life.  Toron shuffled about more kicking away some of the larger stones and even using a few to plug holes in the walls where the growing chill was slipping in.  A few people passed by, fruitlessly look for the wood Toron had gathered so meticulously.  Nim raised a hand in greeting but both were quick to pause with nasty looks upon their faces.  Toron charged at them with an angry bellow before either could say anything.

Nim felt as if she could hardly lift her head the weight had grown so dense.  The more she thought on it and struggled to find a reasoning behind it the heavier and more suffocating it became.  She needed to get her mind off it. 

She took her bag and tugged at the splinter until it came free.  She dumped its remaining contents onto the ground before her.  Toron offered an antler and Nim gratefully hung the bit of sodden leather up.  While laying, his head was the perfect high to hold it above the flames without scorching it.  She tugged off her sodden shirt and began using it to clean up her things.  She examined the handful of gems, little rocks, a tiny doll made of cloth, and the few other things she had as proper possessions.  It wasn’t nearly as much as she had once carried, the rest lost in the lake.  Though it all mattered little next to the journal she took in hand next.  She wiped away the mud off the leather cover.  Within the pages were delicate and the ink had begun to run.  Miniel seemed to have foreseen such damaging happening to it as despite the day or so in the water it was not completely ruined.  The pages held as she carefully peeled them apart and the names were still legible.  She placed the precious item as close to the fire as she dared to slowly begin to dry the pages.

With all her things cleaned as best as she could she found herself simply sitting there.  No stories came to mind, no memories to past the time.  It was as if that heavy thing had locked them all away.  Nim wanted to scream and weep all at once but remained still all the same.  She couldn’t shake the stares the villagers gave, and the ones the elves did not.  The hesitant look in Bard’s eyes and the distance in Thranduil’s.  she wanted to sleep but feared she would suffocate in her slumber.

 _Perhaps it is time we move on._   Toron’s voice broke through Nim’s growing agitation.  _We have yet to explore all the mountains in the north.  There were those ruins of some city we were unable to visit.  The rivers had flooded their banks._   _This year has been much dryer, perhaps now we can find what treasures that place holds._  

Nim lifted her head and looked out past Erebor to the hazy line of jagged peaks.  Nim recalled the ruins well, though it had been many many years since they had seen them.  She had been infatuated with the carving of a bird upon one of the closer building in the water.  She was sure at the time the creature would leap from the stone and take flight.  It would take no more than a fortnight or two to get there. 

They could leave right then, forgo any supplies and live of the land, they had done it before.  Leave without a word.  They would return to being a story once more.  A tale of a strange little elf and her giant stag, who had come and gone before anyone knew how to deal with either of them.  They would tell stories of how they escaped the flames despite the odds.  How they were fugitives of a great elven lord after she had freed the dwarves who had brought ruin to their ci-

Nim hunched her shoulders, “Will you find me some bandages?”  Nim asked as she began to rip away her own sodden ones.  She had forgotten about them until now.  If the wound was not infected before there was a good chance it would be now.  Sigrid would be furious if she knew.

Toron watched her for a long moment, unable to read her emotions through the barrier she had erected between them.  He wanted to know what had made his little one so sullen and quiet.  Not even the suggestion of a new adventure had perked her interest enough to bring the wild light back to her gaze.  He understood though that she wished to be alone for a time.  She would get this way sometimes and solitude always seemed to help.  He hoped now it would be the same.

 _I will return shortly.  Perhaps there is still some bread left that I can steal.  You need to keep your strength up._   With that Toron stood and left their little hide away. 

*****

“You’ll catch a death out here like that.” 

Toron had found the dragon slayer peeking about emptier parts of the town.  He needed only to motion his head towards the little bloom of light before he started off towards her, a roll of bandages and fresh clothes in hand. 

“Elves take longer to freeze, I’ll be dry before I risk anything too serious.”  Nim responded dully poking at the flames. 

“May I tend to your wounds now?  You are bound to get frost bite on some of the more ragged edges.  I don’t think Toron would turn me into a hat if he saw that.” The weak joke fell on deaf ears and after a moment of silence Bard sat down and took a rag and began to carefully soak up any of the remaining lake water from the wound. 

He worked in silence for a time, cleaning bits of mud from crevasses in her flesh.  A few times her shoulders would tense and Bard would still.  She offered no words though and eventually he would continue until he was satisfied with its state.  Her silence unsettled him, and her stillness was making him worry more and more.  All had heard tales of elves who had lost the will to live and begun to wither away.  Was it happening to Nim now?  He had begun to rub a bit of the salve onto her flesh when she finally lifted her head and spoke.

“Is it my fault?” Her voice was so quiet Bard could hardly hear it over the crackles of the fire, “All of this?  Is it my fault because I let the dwarves out?”  There was fear lacing into her tone making the last few syllables wobble.

“You did not awaken the dragon that rained fire upon us.”

“But I still played a hand, didn’t I?  That is why they all stare at me now.  Because I caused this . . . “

“Did you know they were going to let the dragon loose?”  Bard asked.

“No, well. . . sort of.  I knew they were going to have to fight it.  But Fili and Kili had spoken so confidently.  They just needed to get out . . . “

“Then you played no more of a hand in the destruction of lake town than the townspeople.  They offered aid to the dwarves to return to their mountain.  Gave them anything they asked for with the promise of wealth in return.”  A bit of resentment creeped into Bard’s voice.  He quickly tried to tamp it down but it seemed Nim had picked up on it all the same.

“Do you blame me?”  She whispered

“I told you that I did not.” 

“Why not?  People died because of me.” Nim turned so that she was partly facing Bard, “Had I not let them out this would not have happened.”

“Yes, people did die.”  Bard said slowly.  “But people would have died eventually because of that mountain.  Perhaps not today, but one day it was bound to happen.  There is too much gold in that place for anyone to ignore forever, dragon or not.  Besides-” Bard couldn’t help but brush one of the longer scars on Nim’s back, making her tense “I have a feeling you know horrors far beyond most others and would not wish any harm to another in any form.” 

Nim turned back around and allowed Bard to continue.  He got all the way to the last bits of wrapping before she spoke again.  “Why wont the elves look at me and why won’t the villagers stop?”  She turned back around again, she looked hopelessly lost, “There is this thing in my chest and it gets heavier any time I even think of them.  I want it to stop, I feel as if I will go properly mad If it does not.”

Her words caught Bard off guard and he sat back to look over the elf.  She was a creature who was unfathomably old to him with a lifetime that could stretch on forever.  And yet, at that moment, it was as if he was speaking to Tilda.  It was as if she had no concept of guilt at all. 

That thought struck Bard even harder.  Could she not know, truly? 

 “Lord Thranduil told me not to bother looking for you after you left.”  Bard began, “He said you were a flight risk.  Would take off at a moment’s notice.  Be gone before anyone even began to wonder where you had gone.”  Nim looked away and Bard let out a breath, “What was the longest time you remained in a single place with the same people?” 

“Four years.” 

That was all, four years.  Four short insignificant years among such a massive lifetime.  No wonder she seemed so ignorant, so lost.  How could anyone learn anything when they hardly remained anywhere long enough to even know anyone?  Bard could feel a million new questions jump to the front of his mind but he forced himself to focus.  She looked so lost, but with how stubborn she was it would be no easy task to explain such abstract concepts to her.  Bard thought for a moment trying to find some sort of example, his mind continuing to return again and again to a single person.

“You know, out of all the people here, it seems Lord Thranduil has more right than many others to be angry with you.”  He began carefully, He could see her listening picking apart each word he said.  “You ignored his warnings, freed his prisoners, betrayed his trust and above all of it rejecting every word he has spoken.” 

He paused for a moment gauging her expression.  She certainly looked guilty but she also looked confused.  She touched her chest and she watched as she took slow measured breath.  He believed it safe enough for him to continue.

“And yet, he has done nothing but ask of you since he saw you.  He has pestered me about every little aspect about you.  How well you were eating, how your wounds were doing and if they needed to be changed.  Do you know why that is?”

“He hurt me.” Nim answered after a long silence.  The guilt had fallen to the wayside now and was replaced with a growing look of resentment on his face.

“He told me most everything about how you ended up in Laketown.  “The very people I now look after had me imprisoned as well.”

Nim shook her head, “It is different, he knew it was different.”  Bard’s eyes flickered to Nim’s shoulder where a sliver of scar was visible in the fading light.  “It isn’t just a cage, it isn’t just. . .”  Nim shook her head once more, “Have you finished?”

“Ah, yes.  I’m all done.  You are going to need to rest properly for a time.  The wound is obviously irritated and if we aren’t careful an infection could set it.”  He offered her the dry clothes before he began to gather up his other supplies. 

Nim began to change unashamedly, and Bard was quick to look away.  Though not before his eyes caught sight of several clusters of scars on the back of her legs.  As the flames glowed the old wounds were painted silver, making the two that circled around each of her ankles look like shackles.

“Will you tell me what happened to you?” He asked suddenly, it was perhaps the worst time for him to ask such a question.  He couldn’t help it though; the mystery of her wounds had been gnawing at the back of his mind since she had first arrived.  The stag had warned him to keep silent on the matter but he couldn’t help himself.

Nim went still once more, her fingers hovering over the laces of her breeches.  Bard was sure she was going to remain silent and was already preparing an apology when she finally spoke.

“I don’t know.  I woke up in a river with nothing but my name and a body beaten beyond repair to call my own.  But some things. . .”  She fidgeted with the string, “Some things trigger memories, just glimpses.  Flickers of time lived by a stranger.  Sometimes I’m fighting for my life in a battle field, but most often I’m locked in a tiny cage waiting to be. . . “She cut herself off and stared out into space.

 “If I make it right the feeling will go away right?”  Her change was abrupt but it was obvious she had no intentions of saying any more.  “When I am well enough I will do whatever you need to make it right, even if that means rebuilding your whole village by hand.”

Bard watched her, though she was now only half facing him he could hear the determination in her voice.  “I don’t doubt it Nim, but you will need to learn how to make it right on your own.”  Nim nodded and Bard let his gaze wonder. 

As if it were calling to him his gaze turned to the little wet journal next to the flames.  He walked around the flames and carefully picked it up.   “You met all of these people?”  He asked flipping through a few pages.

Nim lifted her head, “Yes, I write down all the names of the people I’ve met.  When it is dry I’m sure I’ll have a page or two to add from here.”  She smiled a bit then and reached out a hand for the little book.  She flicked through a few paged and grinned, “I have been here before, I met a young boy who reminds me a great deal of you, Girion was his name.”

“He was my ancestor.”  Bard admitted reluctantly. 

“He was a good man, one of the few I met more than once.  He had a way of hunting me down any time I was around Dale.  It made his and all the other deaths so much harder.” 

“Why did you not come back, after it was all said and done?” Bard asked glancing over the pages, there were no other names that he would have known or heard of. 

“Elves are naturally ignorant to the ways of mortals, how they live and die.  It is more like they simply disappear to them, live someplace else.  They don’t get death.  As you might have known I am very well acquainted with it, but I find my distaste for it more so than that of the elves.  A man can die before an elf and the elf will see little in it, a man dies before me and I understand what that means.  That they are gone, that they will rot away and I will never see them again.  I envy the elves’ ignorance.  So, I leave before they age too much before I can watch them grow old and wither away.  If I come back long after they have passed I can pretend that they may still be out there.  I did not see them die so who am I to say that they are dead?”  She shrugged and smiled a bit but it was sad.

“That makes for a lonely life.” 

“indeed.”

Bard made a move to leave with a little bow but found himself stilling as he stepped out into the cold evening.  “Nim?”  The elf turned to look at him, “Have you ever thought that perhaps you have hurt him too?” 

For a moment Nim looked confused, uncertain of who the dragon slayer spoke of.  Then her eyes came alight, though they were quickly growing stormy.  Again, Bard was reminded of his own little Tilda on the verge of throwing a fit.  Though instead of a furious shout or angry tears Nim simply spun away and sat down with a dull thump.  The act effectively ending any possibility of Bard saying anymore.  He waited for a moment more before he departed.

How could and elf, an immortal being, have such an understanding of death and yet be nearly ignorant of the ways of guilt and blame.  But then again, how could a creature so ageless look as lost as a child to a mortal man?

Bard pondered as he made his way back to the grand hall though they were cut short by the great stag.  He seemed to materialize out of nowhere.  In one blink was the empty rubble lined street and the next there was the massive creature.  Steam rose out of his nostrils in the cold air.  He blinked his eyes and then he tilted his head.  He seemed prepared to speak but no words came forward, instead he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the bowman before he walked around him towards his charge.  Bard turned to watch the creature go only to find the street empty once more.

******

“What do you mean she has gone?”  Bard demanded lifting up the ruffled pile of blankets just to make sure the little elf was not magically hiding below it.  The elf he had found in her makeshift quarters shrugged helplessly, though did not seem surprised. 

“She was speaking to the beast about her family.  More mad ramblings I’m sure, she doesn’t have a single soul beyond that stag.”  The elf scoffed and stepped out of the room as if it discussed them to even be in the same space that the strange elf had been. 

“Her family. . . “Bard trailed off following after the elf. 

“Her family?”  Tilda appeared rubbing sleep from her eyes, “Who’s family?”

“Nimineth’s apparently.”  Bard sighed.

“The dwarves you mean?” Tilda asked reaching her arms up for her father to lift her, “She told us stories about her brothers when we were at home.”  She said with a yawn.

“Makes sense, a rat living with mongrels.” The elf muttered. 

“Watch your tongue.” Thranduil snapped.  The elf jumped and quickly walked away muttering about helping to gather water.  Thranduil watched them go with a hardly concealed sneer.  “So she is going to the dwarves then?  Not surprising.” He turned away with the silent command for Bard to follow.  “We were needing to talk to them anyway.  I’ll have a horse prepared for you.”

“Excuse me Lord, but what do the dwarves have that you would want?”  Bard asked. 

Thranduil turned and eyed the mortal, “They have something of mine.”

*****

The arrow imbedded itself into the earth a few feet from Thranduil’s stag.  There was a rise of laughter from the newly constructed barrier.  Both men raised their heads to look up.  Nim was perched on the edge, with Toron nibbling at a few of the old vines handing from the remaining ruins of the statue.

“I said to not hit them!”  Nim scolded slapping one of the two dwarves next to her.

“And I didn’t!  Look there is a good few feet before they were in any risk.” 

 _She could have shot it through the gaps in the creature’s antlers._   Toron rumbled.

“is that a challenge?” Kili declared already nocking an arrow, both his brother and Nim forced the weapon down with twin shouts. 

“Nimineth, get down here now!” Thranduil ordered.

“ _Menu shirumund_.” Nim spat back with sudden venom, the brothers snickered.

“Nim we need to speak to Thorin.”  Bard cut in before Thranduil could say anything back.

The brothers exchanged looks.  Fili motioned for Nim to go and for a moment Nim moved to protest but fell silent then.  She wrapped them both in fierce hugs before she allowed Toron to pull her onto his back. 

“How did you even get up there?” Thranduil hissed more to himself.  The two seemed to hear though and with a bleat Toron launched himself off the side.  His hooves skidded of the side of the statue, on jutting bits of stone hardly big enough for hand holds.  Within a few bounds they were on the proper ground and trotting over.  Bard was quick to check her bandages, they were stained but it was old so she had not reopened anything. 

“Go back to the village at once, this does not involve you.”  Thranduil ordered.

“ _Nin gwerianneg! Ego, mibo orch.”_ Nim snapped making a point to dodge from his grasp.

“It is best Nim, there are things we must discuss without distraction.”  Bard added.  Nim glared at him for a moment before she motioned for Toron and the two started off back towards the village.

“Who calls upon the king under the mountain!”  A booming voice echoed over the mountain entrance.

“We have some dealings to do, King Thorin.”  Bard called dismounting from his horse and began his approach.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Menu shirumund - "you are beardless" A dwarven insult  
> Nin gwerianneg! Ego, mibo orch. - You have betrayed me, go kiss an orc. 
> 
>  
> 
> It was pointed out to me by a wonderful reader about my tendency to jumble things in my writing as well as have a few (or you know more. . . a lot more) Errors in my grammar. I have always had a trouble seeing those little errors but with this chapter I took extra care to try to find all those little things and make it a bit more clearer. I really hope that effort shows as I'm always looking for ways to better my writing! 
> 
> As always I hope you enjoy, please leave some kudos or a comment if you did!


	20. Heartless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then show me!” Thranduil challenged daring to bridge the space between them, “Show what this death is."  
> Her hand wrapped around his wrist, demanding and desperate and then all at once agonizing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tis late when I am posting this and since it has been a while this may not be as edited as I like. I tried to read through it but my eyes date me and just fix things for me. So if there is something that is glaringly wrong don't be afraid to point it out I will go back and fix it!

“She is coming.”  Thranduil raised his head seeming to be focused on a sound still unheard to the reluctant leader of Laketown.  “Toron is not with her though, that is either a relief or worrisome.  Just stand back and allow me to deal with her.”

Bard straitened ready to protest, Nimineth wasn’t someone to just deal with.  He felt his protest die on his tongue as someone grunted painfully outside the tent.  A moment later the other guard was all but tossed into the center of the floor.  Nim entered after, she looked just as ragged as everyone else who had dealt with the calamity that was Smaug, but at the same time she looked as unstoppable as Smaug had. 

“Nimineth . . .”  Thranduil said slowly.  He raised his hands in a pacifying gesture, Bard saw Nim’s fingers twitch.  There was a building rage that flitted through her making all her movements look sharp and dangerous.  “Let us speak rationally.” 

“Pen-‘ur! Ci orc 'waur! Gi fuion.”*  Nim spat beginning to pace a bit now, always keeping her front to Thranduil as if she was readying to pounce him.  “How dare you. . .”  She gritted barring her teeth.

“You must understand the ration- “

“I don’t give a damn about your rational!” Nim shouted over him, “There is nothing you can say to me that will make me believe you are right.”

“Then why are you here?”

This stilled Nim, and for a moment her anger cooled, “Why did you want answers from me even though you had already decided to lock me away?”  She challenged, “I wanted to know the reasoning of your madness before I removed your head from your body!”

“These people need aid.” Thranduil said making a point to ignore Nim’s threat.  He noticed she now had one of her many daggers present on her hip.  “They cannot hope to do it without- “

“Ha!” Nim began pacing again, “You don’t give a damn about these people, you do not care for anyone.  Nothing comes from the _goodness_ of your heart.  You always get something in return.  There is something in that mountain you wa-“Her eyes widened as understanding dawned upon her. 

“You above all other should know what those jewels mean.”  Thranduil said as if trying to bridge the gap.  For a moment, Bard was sure she had, though as the last syllabus left Thranduil’s lips Nim’s face contorted back into rage.

“She. Is. Dead.”  With each word Nim stepped closer and her hand reached just a bit more to that ever-present weapon.  “She is dead and if she knew what you were planning she would be rolling in her grave!  You spit upon her memory and make a mockery of all that she has done!”

“Silence yourself, you know nothing of her!”  Now Thranduil’s voice was building with anger, Nim seemed to be plucking all the right strings to infuriate the elven lord, “You were little more than a charity case to her.”

Nim let out a furious cry and lunged.  The blade at her hip came free as she moved her aim for his face.  Thranduil was quicker though, his mind not as clouded with rage.  He dodged the blow and with a swipe of his feet sent her to the ground.  Nim hit the dirt with a thud, blood already running from where the dagger had managed to cut into her arm.  “She cared for me, unlike you, she had a heart!”  Nim whipped around, that same dagger flying and cutting into the canvas wall where Thranduil had stood only a second before. 

“How is it heartless to help a village of starving men get the money they are owed?  So, I come to reclaim something of mine?  These people cannot survive a window without real aid, money to help them rebuild.” 

“There king has fallen to madness, Nim, he will not give us what he promised.  I do not wish death upon them any more than you but- “Bard tried to break in but felt his voice die in his throat at the fiery glare Nim shot him. 

Bard resigned himself to remaining out of this argument, he felt all but powerless between the two immortal forces before him.  Thranduil was an immovable mountain of ice ad stone, but Nim had become a dragon more determined than ever to rip her way right through him.  He couldn’t find any real foul thoughts for the wayward elf.  Bard did not like the idea of a fight any more than Nim probably did, but he hated the idea of his family and his people starving even more.  Still, to Bard, her actions were still justified.  Had it been his family in such threat he would probably be just as furious as she was now.  How such thieving greedy creatures had come to gain such loyalty from her Bard was sure he would never understand.

   “This is why I hate elves.”  Nim hissed, snapping Bard back into focus.  He was unsure how much time had properly passed but the energy in the room had changed.

 “That right there.”  Nim drew free another blade from the inside of her shirt and pointed it at Thranduil.  “So . . . _Pure.”_   The word came out like a curse.  The wildfire that had consumed Nim when she had arrived had now simmered down into something different, resentment perhaps.

She has returned.  Thranduil thought silencing the harsh words that were ready to part his lips.  The tired creature who had stood atop his throne, the wounded one who wept as he had kissed her.  Though he could still see the wounded and tired sides, she now appeared far more bitter. 

“You do not know death, disease, anguish.”

“I know of all of those things well, you should know that.”  Thranduil said carefully quelling the new rise of anger in his gut.  He dared a couple steps forward but the blade in Nim’s hand twitched and he stilled.

“You do not.”  She snapped, “Had you any proper understanding you would not be throwing away lives so carelessly.  The king has gone mad so he no longer fits the agenda you wish to have, so let us kill him and be gone with the blight?” She mocked jutting her chin upwards in a snooty manor.

“It is a dark disease, Nimineth.  It will eat away at him till there is no sanity, no mercy in him.  It was all but crafted by Sauron.” 

“I was touched by his hand, slashed with his blades, burned with his irons, hung by his ropes-!” Though her voice never drew in volume the weight of her voice seemed to drown out any other sounds.  “I watched for decades as those like me, impure’ where shipped off to your precious valor.  Their cries for their homes haunt me as much as my scars.  I was powerless to stop any of you blinded fools from sending them away.  You refused to even try to help them, you bound them so they could not flee.”  Her eyes spilled over and her voice shook, “And just like the dwarf, their only crime was an infliction they did not wish for.”

“The valar could help them where we could not.  They were beyond our ai- “

“You do not understand!” Nim shouted swinging the dagger at the air before her, “You are a blind and ignorant fool!”

“I know what death is, I lost Miniel-“ Thranduil tried again.  He could almost see that gap forming in the wall of glass.  If he could just reach through . . .

“You are blind!”  Nim shouted.

“Then show me!”  Thranduil challenged daring to bridge the space between them, “Show what this death is, show me how _Blind_ I have been.”  He mocked.

That rage reignited before Thranduil’s eyes and Nim lashed out, but this time her hand held little more than a dangerous promise.  Thranduil felt a shiver of triumph, he had crossed the bridge.  Though the act was in anger, Thranduil could feel the sense of desperation as that wall crumbled between them once more.  The longing for someone, anyone to understand.  His wife had been unable to, but perhaps now he could finish her task.

Her hand wrapped around his wrist, demanding and desperate and then all at once agonizing.

He was shown no single moment, no flicker of her life as she had done only days prior.  He saw things of course, flickers of things that came along with the pain.  Faces of elves, sunken and defeated, orcs of all shapes and sizes.  And the bars, the cages.  Locked away over and over in boxes that left him feeling more inhuman than any of their acts against him.  The most prevalent though, and somehow the most horrible, was the grains of a blood-stained board.  Again, and again his face was thrust up into it till he was sure he would never forget ever little detail in the grain.    

Then there was the pain, over and over and over again.  He knew each one was coming and yet each blow was new and just as agonizing as the last hundred.  It was relentless, for hours even days at a time.  There was no mercy, no break from the pain.  Pains from beatings, torture, infection, hunger; they all tore away at him until he could feel his very self being stripped away, piece by broken little piece.

Distantly he was aware his legs were folding under him and he was dropping to the ground, the onslaught becoming too much for him to bear.  She had dropped with him, her grip wavering.  Thranduil managed to twist his hand and grab hold of her arm, refusing to let the connection drop.  This was what she felt, this was what she saw each time a fit over took her.  For over three thousand years she had suffered alone, had grown to hate her own people, had severed any ties to the outside world trying to hide away this blackness.

_‘if only she had let me see. . . ‘_

Miniel had said those words one night after one of her searches for Nim had come up fruitless, again.  She had gone on to describe the ability Nim had.  How during particularly bad fit she had grabbed hold of Nim and given a glimpse into her tormented mind.  Nim had refused to touch her for weeks afterwards, too frightened to give anything away.  His wife was sure if she could bridge that chasm, perhaps Nim would find some sort of healing.

He was bridging that gap now.  Reaching, trying to grab hold of that broken little creature lost within all the torment.  He was sure he was nearly there, could all but feel his fingers brushing against her cheek . . .

His return to reality was jarring.  Thranduil could see bruises forming where he desperately clung to her.  The five little fingerprints that showed he was so close.  Had he looked at his own had he was sure he would see his own matching set.  He reached for her again, trying to look as if what he had just experience did not shake him as much as it had.  She would have none of it though, scrambling so frantically to her feet that she fell twice before she was upright.

Thranduil followed, though far slower, trying to remind his body that the aches that he felt were not real.  He tried for her hand again but she jerked away bringing them close to her chest.  As she watched him take a step, it was steady but that seemed to only upset her more.  She scurried back shaking her head as if she could awaken and it would have all been a bad dream.

“It’s okay. . . “Thranduil said softly, wondering if Miniel had acted the same after her experience.  “Look at me.”  He ordered and for once she obeyed, her eyes locking onto his, “I’m fine, talk to me.”  He urged.

“Don’t come near me.”  Nim whispered taking a step back.  Thranduil tried to grab at her but she threw herself back.  He was sure the blow to her back was agonizing but it did not even cause her to flinch as she scrambled back to her feet, “Just stay away from me!” She cried and then was gone.  

Thranduil hardly had a breath to call her when Toron ripped through the side of the tent and send Thranduil flying to the other side.  Elves were on the beast at once, they seemed to have been chasing him.  Ropes were flung around his crown and looped around his legs in an attempt to hold the massive beast.  Toron had already sent two flying with a swing of his massive head, but the elves had managed to yank a hoof out from below him and with a well time shove sent the creature onto his side. 

“ENOUGH!”  Thranduil shouted shoving away the elves who tried to help him up, “Remove yourself from the stag if you value your life.”  He ordered and the elves stop their assault, but did not release their binds upon the beast

 _WHAT DID YOU DO._  Toron bellowed as he struggled to remove the ropes from his legs.

“She showed me.”  Thranduil said.

Toron went still and for a moment the only sound was the rumble of the beast’s rapid breaths.  _Remove the ropes . . . please._   Toron spoke finally, stunning all in the room.  It even took Thranduil a moment to find himself once more and motion for the elves to do as the creature requested.  His politeness was either a very good sign, or a very bad one. 

When Toron was free he got to his hooves and shook the dust from his coat.  _Stay away from her, you and all your filthy little followers.  Her commands be damned, I will kill you._

“I was trying to help.”

 _She did not want it, how hard is it for you elves to understand.  You cannot fix what has been done to her, we have tried it cannot be done.  All your ‘helping’ is doing nothing but inflicting more agony upon my little one._   Toron turned away and started towards the opening Nim and fled from.

“You cannot protect her from all the hurts in the world stag, she cannot pretend it didn’t happen forever.”

 _She doesn’t pretend, she just tries not to relive it._  Toron spat.  _A habit which you elves seem insistent on her doing._

“She’ll just end up all alone, Toron.  Is that what you want?”

Toron’s ears folded back but he did not turn his head to speak to the elven lord. _So long as I am here, she will never be alone._  

Bard could only stare at the stag and then at the Elven lord unsure of what had just transpired.  He parted his lips to speak but Thranduil raised his hand to silence him.  He didn’t look any different, besides his now dirtied clothes, yet he seemed different.

“Are we continuing with this then?” Bard asked and Thranduil sighed as if he was a petulant child demanding attention.

“Leave me.” Thranduil ordered leaving no room to protest.

Bard nodded and left the tattered tent, already elves were working to repair the tears in the fabric walls.  Bard watched them for a moment before leaving properly, he was sure that Alfred was probably wailing about somewhere about some petty thing. 

Thranduil on the other hand was already dealing with his running thoughts.  What he had seen, what he had felt, what it meant.  He had been so sure he was so close to seeing the side of Nim but the longer he thought the more he began to believe that he was only scratching the surface.  He was attacked with all of it at once and felt little more than a bit shaken.  Perhaps he wasn’t grasping this idea of death.  He moved to sit in one of his chair when his eyes fell upon an object on the ground. 

Nim’s bag.

For a moment he thought of just setting it aside but the next moment he was opening it.  He first retrieved her journal and took a moment to flick through the pages until he found his wife’s name.  One of the few who had departed that had not been crossed out.  He dug into it again retrieving a small palm sized scale that was iridescent and blue.  He knew the scale and the beast that had belonged to it.  He rubbed at his cheek absently.  Next came a handful of jewels and trinkets.  What caught his attention was a small pin secured to the bottom of her bag.  It took a moment to unfasten it before he was able to properly examine it.

The pin was badly corroded and worn away over the many years.  The longer he looked though the longer he was sure that the pin depicted a valley and a possibly a waterfall.  There was only one place that had ever had such a symbol, Rivendell.  Why did Nim, an elf who had denied ever being anywhere near elven settlement, have such a pin?  This specific pin was difficult to come by too, it was given to those who had fought in the final war of Sauron.  Pins to identify that these elves came from Rivendell.  His father had similar pins crafted for their own troops.  He still had his own. 

Had she found it?  Was she given it. . . was it possible she had fought and received it?  The thought sent an icy blast of shock at the realization.  He at once called for one of his guards and dispatched him to go to Rivendell to retrieve the records of the troops during those many years of battle.  The elf looked a bit confused but did not argue as he left to find a horse and begin the long journey.

  Could Nim had been a lost soldier? 

He looked down at the pin and rubbed it between his fingers.  Miniel had struggled for years, decades, trying to find where Nim had come from and where she had retrieved such wounds.  Had he found Nim’s past?  For a moment, he wished he could call to her, he wondered if she would have been excited at the prospect, or would she be upset? 

“Sire?”

Thranduil lifted his head from the pin, he seemed to have been staring at it for a while as the sun had set.  With his King’s attention the elf stepped in, one of the commanders of his troops if Thranduil recalled correctly.

“A hobbit is here requesting your presence. . . He says he had something that may interest you.” 

Thranduil arched a brow and waved his hand for the elf to allow him entrance.  The Hobbit scooted in awkwardly, keeping close to the wall as if he wasn’t allowed to step in any further.  He looked around and bounced on the balls of his heels until Thranduil had to prompt him to speak.

“Right!” Bilbo sucked in a breath and stepped in properly to the tent.  “Well, the-there was an agreement, when I signed up to be a burglar. And well, it went along the lines of each member of the company would be given an e-equal share of the treasure, and well we obviously haven’t gotten a chance to properly split it but, well. . . “

“Out with it Hobbit!” Thranduil snapped and the Halfling jumped nearly dropping what he held in his hands. 

“I’ve taken this as my share. . . “Bilbo held out his hands and unwrapped the large jewel in his hands.

“the arkenstone. . . “ Thranduil sat up in his chair.

“I’d save them if I can. . . “Bilbo said softly. 

“Fetch the bowman!” Thranduil called uncaring of who followed the order so long as someone did.  This changed a great deal of things, it changed. . . everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Heartless! You dirt orc! You are heartless!"
> 
> This was a challenging chapter to write. it was so hard reigning in the emotions that Nim has been dancing around since the beginning. It was either too angry or too emotional (and I think we've had enough heart crushing chapters) I rewrote this chapter like four times, but I think that I found a good balance between all the emotions. And what will become of that pin hmmm??? Thranduil you should not be snooping!


	21. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Save your king Bilbo.” Nim said nudging Toron awake, “I was foolish enough to give up on mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a beast, more so than the last. This is probably an extra two thousand words or so extra compared to previous chapters and I cut out some bits too! So enjoy! Make sure to see the end notes for some important stuff!

 “What did you do to her!”  Dis cried, “Unbind her now!”

Nim was dropped, rather unkindly, to the fur rug before the fireplace.  Her hands were bound behind her back, her legs tied at the ankles and then once more around her thighs and calves preventing her from even stretching her legs. 

“It isn’t safe!” One dwarf jumped in as Dis drew her own blade.  “She’s gone near rabid!”

Nim was indeed thrashing about on the floor, though her cries seemed far more frightened than enraged to Dis’ ears.  Dis gave all four dwarves a hard look before crouching down and cutting through the ropes around her feet. Already the flesh was raw and beginning to bruise. 

“Dis, please.”  One of the dwarves grabbed her wrist to stop her from cutting the ropes keeping her legs bent, “She sent four others to the healers before we were able to subdue her.” 

“I will send you to the healers if you do not remove your hand from me right now.”  Dis threatened. 

“Think of your kids.” He persisted.

“I am.” Dis snapped yanking her hand free and swiftly slicing through the ropes. She fell back as Nim’s leg lashed out, hitting one of the other dwarves.  “Good girl.” Dis murmurs.

Nim squirmed, not exactly fighting, but not submitting either.  Dis watched her for a moment before she was able to push Nim onto her side and in a swift movement free her arms as well.  With herself, unbound Nim suddenly fell still.

“What are you still doing here?  Get out of my sight before I sick the stag on you!” Dis growled pointing her blade at the men, Toron barred his blunt teeth from the kitchen.  The scrambled to the door, Dis right on their heels.

“Face it Dis, she is not right in the head.  There is something broken in that elf that not even you could fix.”

“That would be a problem, except that she doesn’t need fixing.” Dis slammed her door in their faces, nearly catching the fingers of one of the dwarves as it shut.  She almost wishes she had.  She took a step back before quickly securing the lock, unsure if they would gather others and forcibly remove Nim from her home.

Nim had always been . . . funny, more so than an elf who liked dwarves should have been.  Dis had seen the way her eyes would glaze over, how she would sometimes go still for hours and see something.  Once or twice she had begun conversations with others who were not truly there.  This was the first she had seen this though.

“What happen?”  Dis asked stepping back into the room where Nim now lay curled tightly into a ball.  She was crying now, and quietly whispering in elvish.  Dis could not understand it but something told her she was begging.

_A piece of molten metal got on her, the dwarves jumped to help.  Her shirt had caught flame so they ripped it off. . ._

Dis sucked in a breath now realizing that Nim was indeed lacking a shirt, the cloth they had draped over for her modesty was now tossed aside.  Her back was exposed displaying the old wounds to the world.  Dis felt a slight shiver at the sight of them.  Scars were marks of pride here but not even Dis could deny that something horrible was done to retrieve such marks.

“She’s reliving them, isn’t she?” Dis asked, not really needed the answer.  She had never seen it for herself but she had heard stories.  Dwarves who lose themselves at the near suggestion of weapons, clawing at their bodies were old wounds once lay.

_It has not gripped her fully, but it will.  I will take her to her room._

“No.”  Dis quickly dropped to Nim’s side.  “I want to try to help.” She reached for Nim’s hand, trying to pull one of her hands from her shoulder. 

The moment her skin touched Nim’s she jerked back with a gasp of pain. She quickly grabbed at her shoulder making sure the blow she felt was not real.  Toron stepped forward moving to hook Nim’s arm with his antler when Dis held out her hand. She took the cloth that once covered Nim and instead wrapped it around her own hand.  Toron nodded signaling that her idea would work.  Dis grabbed at her hand once more and carefully pried it away.  Nim’s hand flexed and then grasped onto Dis’ with an iron grip.

“Listen here Nim, I need you to tell me something good.”  Dis said softly, Nim groaned in response and stiffly shook her head, “Come on child, one good thing, just one.  One little detail, that is all I need.” Dis pressed.

“Mama? What’s wrong with Nim?” Fili asked peeking into the room, Kili just behind him.

“Fili take your brother and go play. Mama needs to focus right now.” Dis instructed. Nim gasped in pain and Kili dashed forward eyes wide with worry.  “Fili your brother, now!” Dis ordered sharply. Fili quickly grabbed his brother and drew him back.

“She smelt like wildflowers,” Nim whispered, her eyes partially focused on the retreating figures of the two boys.

“Yes, good good, keep going Nim.”  Dis encourages.

Slowly Nim was able to gasp and grit out words, little things that were slowly pieced together into bigger things.

*****

Fili remembered his mother doing that twice more for Nim.  Holding her hand and carefully pulling her mind from the blackness that always threatened to consume her.  His mother wasn’t here now though.  It was just him, and her and the chilling night air.  He carefully wrapped his hand in a strip of cloth.  He had to keep himself calm, he didn’t have hours to spend like his mother did.  Even he could smell the blood that was oozing from her back. 

“She can still hear right?” Fili asked trying to keep his voice firm.  Not to mention it was only a matter of time before Thorin noticed his absence.  Kili was ready to keep him busy but it would only give him so much time. 

 _She can hear, but the ties to this world are strained._   Toron murmured keeping his nose pressed to her side.  _I will keep her here as long as I can, hurry._ The stag instructed.  The creatures coat continued to twitch, his ear flicking about erratically.  Fili did not even want to imagine the pain the creature was enduring to keep her here.

He wrapped his hands in fabric and carefully pried one hand free.  As before her hand grasped onto his like iron.  Fili could feel the bones protesting in his hand.  He squeezed hers back as tightly as he could, “Alright Nim, I need you to try really hard now.” He instructed, “You are hurt bad and I can’t fix you until you are okay.  So you got to tell me, what is that one good thing.  That one peaceful thought.”

Nim’s eyes scanned the sky both here and not, He could see that she wanted to cry out In pain, her throat working to swallow the sounds.  Fili squeezed her hand tighter, “Come on Nim, one detail, just one.  That is all I need.  One and the pain can stop.”

A cry made it past her lips and Fili heard one of the bones in his hands crack.  “Come on Nim, just one.  I’ll help you through it, I know the stories.  Come one, what is the first thing?”

“His hands.” Nim groaned her eyes squeezing tight.

“Wildflow-wha-?” Fili bit back the words  He looked to Toron but the creature's eyes were shut.  “Yes, right, his hands. Come on the next one.” Fili continued trying to refocus his mind.  _His_ hands, _His?_   There had never been a ‘he’ in these stories. 

“They were warm.”  Nim rasped opening her eyes, “His hands were warm. . .”

“Keep talking come on Nim.”  Fili pressed.

She seemed to be settling far faster than he had ever seen.  Her eyes continued to go unfocused but they returned to stare up at the golden sky. Each few breaths she would whimper and close her eyes but he felt as if he no longer needed to pry the words from her.

“He held me like a person, not like I was breakable.  He held my hand as if he was the one that could break. . . and when he touched them he did not recoil. . .” Nim closed her eyes once more, “He probably didn’t even notice that he kept tracing one, but I did.  With each step, his fingers would run up and down its length.  We danced as if we were the only two people in the world, and I felt like we were.”

She continued on like that, breaking down each detail of the dance until she was sure Fili would have been able to picture it perfectly himself.  When she opened her eyes once more they no longer glazed over, her body continued to twitch and flinch but her mind seemed to have anchored itself here.  Her grip slackened in Fili’s and he released it.  Nim held it up above her stretching her fingers as far as it would go.

“I showed him things I never thought I would be willing to share, and even now, even as I hate him . . . all I want to do is show him everything.”  She began to weep again, “I close my eyes and I see him and I don’t want to.” She looked at Fili, “This is why I hate elves.”

He smiled sadly, “It’s good to see you back in your proper mind.  Come on, I need you to sit up, the bandages are stuck in your wound, I need to get it all cleaned. “He grasped Nim’s hand and helped pull her up.  “You can keep talking if you like.”

Nim shook her head, “I believe I have dug myself a large enough hole as it is.” 

Fili nodded and carefully cut through the bandages before he began to slowly pry them off.  More blood rushed to fill the spaces Fili pulled the cloth away from.  He was trying to go slow, easy the bandages from the raw flesh.  Nim growled in either pain or annoyance and reached back.  With a harsh jerk, she ripped the fabric away and tossed it to the side.  He couldn’t help but chuckle, Nim never did enjoy drawing such things out. 

He started with some water from a small water bladder he had brought, pouring the cool liquid over the wound to wash away any clinging dirt.  He moved onto the salve and then bandages.  As he tied them off he lifted his head and looked at the back of hers.

“You spoke of the elf lord correct?” He asked after a moment.

“I walked away.” Nim said softly, “It does not matter now.”

“But it does, Nim.  I’ve never seen you become so calm before.  Just thinking about him brought you away from a fit.”

Nim shook her head, “It is too late.  I have burned bridges and said horrible things.  You can’t fix that.”

“But you can rebuild it.” Fili pressed, “The first thing to build those bridges back up is just two little words.”  He scooted so he could see her face. 

“I didn’t do anything to him!  He was the one who locked me up!” Nim snapped. 

Fili let out a breath and busied himself with digging a small trench to place a fire in.  With the wind picking up it would be harder to extinguish this way.  He took his time, making sure the hole was just right before he began to pile in sticks.

“Perhaps not physically.  But despite how hard it is to believe, you can wrong another with words just as much as with actions.  To him, we were just a bunch of intruders threatening to release a monster back into the world.  He thought his actions were just as right as yours.”

Nim bit her lip and looked down watching as Fili grabbed a bit of flint from his pack and started the fire.  It reflected off the wall the dwarves had created to keep everyone out. Nim watched the flickering flames reaching her hand out so that it could dance just above their dangerous touch. 

“You both hurt each other in different ways, wronged each other.” Fili got to his feet and dusted himself off, “I need to get back before Uncle notices.  Please tell me you will at least rest tonight.”  Nim nodded reluctantly and Fili let out a sigh of relief. 

“Why do you defend him?”  Nim asked as Fili took hold of the rope that had allowed him to climb down. 

“I still think he is a prick, don’t get me wrong.  What you see in him is beyond me.  All I know is that you thought of him and your fit stopped.  I’ve only heard one other story that could have calmed you in this way.  So that is nothing you should ignore.”  With that, he set his grasp upon the rope and began to work his way up. 

“You’ll make a great King Fili.”  Nim murmured and watched him go. 

Nim shifted thankful of the fresh bandages.  She threw a few more sticks into the fire and poked it until it was warm.  She snuggled close to Toron tracing a ridge of fur that rose from the different directions of growth.  That weight in her chest was back, though now it seemed heavier.  She felt as if she could cry but she had done enough crying.  She closed her eyes and felt herself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

A rustling woke her and she groaned, “Fili, the bandages are fine you can wait for--Bilbo?” Nim blinked as she spotted the small hobbit dropping from the other side of the dying embers. 

The hobbit seemed to tense and carefully turned around.  He at once looked guilty. “Uh. .hi?”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask the same of you.”  He said bending down to add a few fresh bits of wood to the embers and gradually bring them back to life.

“I won’t let Thranduil harm them.”  Nim said when the space around them was illuminated with the small flames, “I will fight if that is what it means.”

Bilbo nodded seeming to go over something in his head before he plopped down and pulled a bit of cloth from a breast pocket.  With a flick of his wrist, he revealed the glittering jewel.  Nim tilted her head and even reached forward to run a finger down its surprisingly smooth front.

“It’s the Arkenstone.” Bilbo explained, “I don’t want this fight to happen either, Thorin has something planned and it will end horribly for hi- for everyone if something isn’t done.” Bilbo recovered the jewel, shooting a nervous look over his shoulder before tucking it back away, “I took it as my share of the treasure.  I plan to offer it to Lord Thranduil and Bard to barter for what they want.” 

As the hobbit spoke Nim’s heart seemed to lighten.  She dived forward and crushed Bilbo in a hug.  She would have lifted him and swung him about but she feared it may draw too much attention.  “You are brilliant.”  Nim breathed releasing the startled creature.

“You think it will work?” He asked hopefully.

“We can only hope.”

Bilbo stood and then hesitated, “He will be furious when he knows what I have done.” He looked down sadly his fingers tracing over the swell of the jewel.  “He will never speak to me again. . . “

“Save your king Bilbo.” Nim said nudging Toron awake, “I was foolish enough to give up on mine.  Toron will take you to the village and back.”

The stag cast a worried look to Nim but did not protest as he allowed the hobbit onto his back.  Toron touched his nose to Nim’s cheek before standing and with a startled gasp from the hobbit bounded off. 

Nim tried to lay back down to sleep but she found that it eluded her.  With a sigh, she got to her feet and hefted one of her blades into her lap.  Toron had removed them from his burden so Nim could prepare them in the morning.  It wasn’t morning yet but it was never too early she decided.  With a whetstone, she began to carefully run it along one of the edges.  The blade was terribly dull, Nim could hardly remember the last time she had used it.  She continued to sharpen the edges until the first rays of sunlight had begun to peek through the gloom. 

Toron arrived with a hopeful looking Bilbo.  He moved to speak but Nim shook her head and motioned for him to go up and over to the dwarves.  Such talking would have to wait. As Bilbo scurried up Nim pressed her thumb along its new edge. She prayed she would not have to use it.

 _Are you ready?_   Toron asked softly dropping to the earth next to her.

“As Ready as I will ever be.” She returned the blade to its sheath and carefully secured it to her hip.  As the dawn rose she dug under Toron’s saddle bags and unclipped an unstrung bow.  “Arrows?”  She asked

_Other side, in the quiver, though there are few._

“Just in case.”  Nim decided, fetching the string from a pack, she restrung the bow and draped them both over her shoulder.  She was not the greatest with the use of a bow but she would at least be able to wound something.

As morning rose properly she could hear Thranduil’s troops advancing.  Thorin and his company arrived at the top and all making a point to ignore her.  Though Fili shot her a look to make sure she was alright.  Nim pulled herself onto Toron’s back in response. She felt for her dagger, realizing she had only one, the others tossed about in Thranduil’s tent.  She cursed her brashness and drew her sword instead, resting it once more across her lap.  The blade had never felt heavier. 12

Though the Elves at the front of the line did not move they cast worried glances at Nim, seeming to wonder if She would go through with fighting against her own kind.  Nim watched the antlers of Thranduil’s elk cross the ridge and slowly make its way up towards the wall, Bard in tow.  Both looking rather surprised to see Nim waiting with a weapon.

Thranduil continued to try to meet her gaze but Nim kept her gaze out and over the land, determined not to look at him.  As they stepped onto the stone Thorin let free and arrow that struck just a foot or so away from Thranduil’s steed. 

“The next one will go between your eyes.”  Thorin threatened the cheers of his little troop behind him.  For a moment Thranduil smirked as if prepared to shoot back a witty remark. 

With all but a flex of his fingers, the first handful of rows moved and aimed arrows at the group.  Nim sat up and slid her blade down so that she held it at her side, ready to strike.  Eventually, Thranduil motioned once more and the threat was removed.  She looked up to Fili ad Kili, for them, she reminded herself.  Thranduil began to speak of payment but Nim paid little mind.  She was trying to ignore the faces she recognized, the feeling of deep wrongness that this all held. 

If it came to a fight she needed to be ready, she had to be.  Be this her last battle she would not fail on protecting her brothers.  Let the bridges she burn smolder, her name be cursed, and her soul rot in someplace dark, she would not let them down.

“Throw him from the ramparts!”

The cry shook Nim from her thoughts and she lifted her head trying to see what was happening above.  She looked to Bard, could see the twinkle in his pocket.  Bilbo had told him then.  She nudged Toron and he backed up a bit, his head too looking skyward and the king ranted and raved.

 _If they push him, slide from my back and I will ease his fall, he will not be unharmed but he will live._ Toron murmured and Nim scooted back until she sat on the swell of his hips, ready to drop at a moment’s notice. Thorin yanked at once of the brothers and Nim stiffened her hand grabbed the length of the bow, she’d shoot him dead before he even dares move Fili towards the edge. 

When Thorin merely shoved him away and grabbed for Bilbo she patted Toron’s side signaling her readiness.  Though again they were relieved as a new shape forced his way through the elves and to the front with a furious cry.  Startled Thorin released Bilbo and the hobbit made quick work of fleeing to the rope and scurrying down. As he dropped down he gave Nim a fearful look. 

“I’m sorry. . . “  He whispered.

Nim hushed him and urged him towards the arriving wizard.  He would be safer with him, than Nim.  It would be a fight then.  A fight they could not win.  She glanced up to Thorin, and then to Fili and Kili.  If Toron could move quick enough he could get to the top and Nim could drag the boys onto him and flee before their lives would be at risk.  They would never forgive her for such an action, leaving the others to face Thranduil’s wrath.  But they would be alive, she would go back to save as many as she could.  She touched Toron’s neck relaying her idea to him fully when a great raven dove and landed on the stone next to Thorin. 

Shortly after came the clang and thunder of troops.  Nim pushed herself onto her feet and watched as the waves of dwarves marched up.  As Thranduil caught sight he shouted and order to march and the troops turned and began their own march to the new arrivals.  Her heart hummed in her chest, this would be a true battle then, not a skirmish or a slaughter, but a real battle. 

At The realization, her vision swam and for a moment the frost covered ground was replaced with bloodied dirt and the smell of ash.  The sun disappeared and the only light that illuminated the land were the flames lit by orcs and elves as they fought against one another.  Nim gasped and grabbed for the blade of her weapon feeling its edge cut into her flesh.  At once she was returned to the field and the mountain, the dwarves above were cheering.

The sensation of wrongness was overflowing, “This battle should not happen.”  Nim whispered small flashed of mud and earth still flickering here and there.  “This battle is wrong.  We must try to persuade them to stop.  I just need to get through to Thranduil.”  

She looked up to her brothers and then urged Toron forward.  Thankfully the elves let her pass through unhindered on her charge up to the Elven Lord.  As she reached Thranduil she took note of Gandalf speaking to the newly arrived troop's leader.

“Thranduil.”  Nim tugged Toron to a stop and made a point of yanking his ear before the great creature could shove the other’s Elk.  “You can’t do this.  Don’t tell me that you don’t feel that this is wrong.” 

“Nim. . . “  Thranduil looked at her but quickly drew his eyes away, “Go back to the village, this is obviously not your fight.” He spoke coldly, a twinge of annoyance creeping into his tone as the dwarf leader continued to spat insults at him.  Nim wanted to snap at the dwarf to silence himself, his harsh words were not helping.  Thranduil was proud more than anything.

“You have no rule over me Thranduil.” Nim growled, “Do not do this, they are just stones.” Nim pleaded, already the dwarf leader was drawing back and calling to his troops. 

“those stones are an heirloom of my people, the last treasure of my wife.  I will leave when they are returned to me.” He growled shouting for his own troops to advance.  Nim watched him pass and cursed her quick words.  Of course, those jewels were more than just stones, the one she wore around her neck was proof of that enough.  That little rock was one of the few things she would have willingly fought tooth and nail to keep. 

 _He will not listen._   Toron growled.  _And dwarves are too bull headed to even attempt._  

The stag snorted as the archers prepared their arrows aiming them high into the air.  Dwarves upon rams charged forward with spear and ax with battle cries of their own.  The noise caused the images in Nim’s head to swarm once more.  She at once grabbed for her blade creating another shallow wound that she let weep freely. 

“Nim, are you okay?”  Bard rode up to her his eyes on the wound she had just inflicted upon herself, “Perhaps you should go back.” He suggested softly.

“No.  I will not leave.  I will convince Thranduil.  After him Toron.” Nim ordered charging away from the man.  Arrows around them took flight, but just as quickly the dwarves retaliated with spiraling spears that sliced through the arrows.

 _Hold on!_   Toron shouted turning sharply to one side as the dwarves weapons wiped out several rows of elves.  Nim let out an anguished cry.  Already she could smell the blood.  Nim urged him forward, Thranduil releasing more arrows and the dwarves their deadly spears.  _Their ranks are converging!  We need to get out of the way!_

“I need to get to Thranduil, we can still salvage this!”  Nim cried desperately. 

Toron snorted but did not protest throwing himself forward as the two armies met.  He bounded into the air as a ram charged at him.  Nim had to swing her sword to stop the ax that threatened his hind leg.  All around her the sounds of battle made it harder and harder to focus.  Memory and reality blurring into one. 

 _Stay with me little one,  I will get you to the elf but you must remain here._   Toron instructed.

“His hands are warm.” Nim murmured dodging the throwing ax of a dwarf.  “And strong.”  She added, “I was not breakable in his arms, and he did not fear my scars.”  She whispered feeling a quiet calm sweeping over her.  “I showed him things I never believed I would show anyone. . .  Thranduil!” Nim shouted his name as Toron bounded into place next to the elk.

“Back to the village at once!” Thranduil ordered his elk sending a dwarf spiraling through the air. 

“Thranduil-“ Nim cut off as the earth below them shook. Nim’s stomach dropped as the fighting began to stop as all took notice.  “What god has cursed us so?”  Nim whispered as the hillside busted open with giant beasts crushing rock in their jaws with furious cries. 

 _Orc._   Toron said inhaling deeply, _I can smell their filth.  They must have come for the treasures in the mountain._  

“Then we fight them,” Nim said twisting the blade in her hand.  As she moved Thranduil’s own arm reached out stilling the arm which held the two wounds upon her palm.  He looked at Nim, worry and anger and so many other things shuttling away his words. 

 _There are not enough dwarves to fight such a hoard._   Toron growled as the dwarves retreated from the elves and started for the wretched beasts.  Nim drew her hand away waiting for the call Thranduil would give to bring his elves to the aid of the dwarves.

“Fall back, the orcs will finish our troubles,”  Thranduil called.  Nim stared in horror as the elves began to fall back at their leader's command, lining into order to await the next.  “Happy now, I am out of the fight.”  Thranduil bit out sarcastically.

 “I’m sorry.” Nim cried, shutting her eyes, “For everything I did and said and... whatever else I did that upset you.  Do not let the slights you have against me forward your actions in this fight.  They will be killed.”

“I thought you did not want me to fight.” 

“I did want to fight you!  I didn’t want you to fight my brothers!” Nim cried, “I never wanted to wrong you Thranduil.  They need you now Thranduil, if not for me or them then for the fact that they are orcs and they shouldn’t be allowed any foothold in our lands.” Nim met his gaze fully.  “I know those jewels mean the world to you, as mine does me.”  She pulled out the white sparkling gem from beneath her shirt.  “But they are not the only things she left behind for you.”

Nim began to draw away and Thranduil tried to grab at her again, his hand falling on air, “Do not fight in this Nim, You did not come here to fight either.  This fight is for land that is not ours, you have no claim over it.”

Nim shook her head, “I don’t care about what belongs to whom, I care about my brothers.” Nim shifted her weapon in her hand, “This mountain means enough for them to risk their lives, that is enough for me.”

With that Toron charged forward with a deafening bellow. He could see Nim struggling, shaking her head to clear it.  He wonders what she saw.

_“These people believe this land is worth it, that is enough for me.”_

Her words were so frighteningly similar to his wife’s.  The farther she was the more he was sure he could see her and not Nim perched upon that creature.  He had cursed himself for centuries, having held back troops from that battle. Perhaps, had he not done so his Miniel would still be beside him.  He already lost one, he did not wish to lose enough.  He looked to his commander and nodded.  At once the elves around him charged forward. 

The moment the elves began their charge Nim whipped around and at once found his gaze.  She lifted her blade into the air, a silver chain now wrapped around its end.  From here he could see the jewel on the end reflecting the sunlight.

For Miniel, Thranduil though.  He would not fail her twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end of this story my lovely readers! I never really 'map' things out but I believe there will roughly be three to four more chapters before we reach the end. This story has been such a lovely ride and I want to thank all of you who stuck with me through all of it. But this is not the final. Nim is a creature of stories and there are far too many unknowns to finish here. So once we finish here keep a look our for more to come shortly after.


	22. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at yourself! I can hardly tell when you walk within this world or another. Do you even see what is around you now? Or are you half lost in something of the past? Face it, Nim, you are broken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really late upload, things here are a bit . . . stressful to say the least. So writing is a bit difficult at the time. I will keep trucking along though! So don't give up on me yet! Things will just be a bit slower. (Thankfully there are only a few chapters left!) Thank you all so much for reading and as always don't forget to comment or leave Kudos. Such things are greatly welcomed,(now more than ever).

As they charged forward Nim felt a sweeping calm overtake her. Her once rapid breaths were now deep and even, her shaky grip was now like iron around her blade.  Her body knew how to fight, even if her mind did not.  It used to frighten her, how easily this calm could overtake her and make killing easy.  She raised her sword and with a swipe took down the first orc in her path.  Nim didn’t even need to look for her blade to strike, she just needed to let her body do its job and keep her mind as blank as possible. 

Normally such a task as keeping her mind clear was a challenge, having to perpetually focus on the rise and fall of Toron’s breaths or the movement of his muscles beneath his flesh.  This time it was easier.  The world had fallen to an odd twilight in her gaze, though some part of her knew it was still early morning. If she were to look up she would find the sun and the moon hanging in the sky.  On the earth, she would find mud and dirt mixed with freshly frosted grass twisting and twining together.  The orcs she now fought merged, some dressed in simple armor and others in elaborate works with a blood red eyes painted across their shield and breast plates.  It took only a moment for Nim to realize that her mind and reality were now twisted together, past and present lining up well enough to not distract one from the other.  It was beautiful really, the world her mind had created if you could ignore all the bloodshed and death. 

Though the elves of Mirkwood far outnumbered the ones of Nim’s mind, she was still lost in the beauty of the phantoms all the same.  She recognized the old arms of Mirkwood, the deep green and accented gold of their uniforms.  Nim recalled Miniel’s guards during her travels wearing similar wares.  They struck down their phantoms foes with moves that were as precise and deadly, Their movements endlessly graceful but no less ferocious as their real counterparts. 

The elves wrapped in deep blue were the ones that were able to distract Nim the most, their movements far more graceful than their Mirkwood counterparts.  They all but danced about the orcs as they fought, dropping orcs as they spiraled across the ground.  Nim found herself lowering her weapon to watch them properly, a small part of herself telling her that _she_ could move like that. . .

_Little one!_

Toron’s voice broke in a moment too late.  A disoriented ram crashed into Toron’s legs, the great stag too busy deflecting a blow aimed for the distracted elf was unable to rebalance.  And as quickly as Nim found herself lost in the warping worlds of her mind, she was flying through the air and landing roughly on her side.  For a panicked heartbeat, Nim was disoriented, looking for the elves in blue to aid her only to find herself laying among the fallen bodies of dwarf and orc.  She sucked in a frightened breath dodging the blade of another orc and barely raising her blade up quick enough to block another.

Back, in reality, Nim struggled to keep herself alive.  Her mind racing too fast to allow her body to take over.  She parried blow after blow struggling to remember the moves she had learned.  If she did not act quickly she would not survive.  She looked for Toron between blows, finding him several yards away and struggling to keep several orcs from pinning him down.  When he caught sight of her, his fighting grew only more ferocious as he realized Nim was nearly a sitting duck.

 _“Lul Gijak-Ishi”_   The orc hissed as Nim rolled away from yet another strike. 

“ _Nar Thos_ ”  Nim shot back and then gasped realizing what she had just done.  Her words chilled her, her own voice making her tremble.  The orc seemed just as shocked its eyes growing wide as it too took in what Nim had done. 

Something flickered in the creature's eyes and he took a step back.  Nim saw her chance and shoved herself onto her feet.  The orc shot forward again his strike seeming less determined to kill. Nim took a little time trying to figure out what its actions met instead deciding to lash out.  The creature clumsily blocked it, Nim slicing deep into its side. 

That was all it took for Nim to slide back into the proper state.  She struck out again and cleaved the creature's arm off.  Instead of striking back the creature cackled, the same strange flicker in his gaze, before he took off back towards the holes.  Nim tried to give chase but the constant swarm of other fighters made catching up impossible.  Besides, she had little time to properly follow, with so many orcs lashing out she had far more to do than kill one little orc.

 _Little one._   Toron managed to free himself from his attackers and charged to her side.  _Are you hurt?_   He sniffed at a cut in her arm.  Nim pushed his nose away and grabbed hold of his antlers.  He pulled her up and returned her to his back.  He was preparing to charge into the fray again when a new bellow filled the air. 

All around the orcs fought more fiercely. Toron and Nim struggling to keep them from swarming them completely.  Something was wrong, terribly wrong.  Her touched Toron’s neck urging him to move out of the thick of the fight.  He sent another orc flying before raging off as quickly as his hooves could take them.  They hadn’t even reached the edge of fighting when Nim realized what they were doing. 

“They are going to attack the city.” 

Toron did not even need a command, kicking away another attacker before charging back towards the ruins of Dale.  She could already see Bard’s fighters rushing to return to their makeshift home.  Toron trailed after them, his long legs quickly making up the distance between them.  Nim scanned the crowd for the dragon killer. 

“Bard!” Nim shouted catching sight of him near the lead.  Toron carefully weaved his way through the crowd.  Nim took hold of his crown and leaned down, reaching a hand out to the bowman.  He hesitated for a moment before grasping hers and allowing himself to be heaved onto the great steeds side. 

“Best to have an idea of what is going on before the army gets there,” Nim said to Bard before lifting her blade to the people.  They let out a fierce cry parting their numbers so Toron could run through unhindered.  Toron threw himself forward, Nim could feel his muscles straining below his flesh as he pushed his body to its limits. 

“Your back Nim.” Bard said in her ear, “You should not be fighting.”

“I’m fine, I’ve felt worse pain.” She said but her words gave little comfort to the bowman.  Her fall to the ground had broken open the delicate scabs formed only the night before.  Though her shirt had been stained prior in was now painted again with growing blooms of red.

“Tilda will not forgive me if I let you die in this battle.  You need to stand down, I’ll be sending those unable to fight to the great hall.  It is fortified there.”

“I have no king.” Nim said her voice gentle, “Worry not for me Bard, I have Toron, he will protect me.”  She smiled a bit, “Now hang on.”

Toron bounded into the air, crushing several orcs upon his landing.  Bard tried to ignore the sounds of the crushing bone and splitting flesh.  Even in battle, it was a gruesome sound to hear.  Still, it did little to hamper the great stag, he charged onward Tossing orcs this way and that, Nim quickly dispatching those who were lucky enough to miss the stag’s great antlers.  He was thankful for his speed, his horse had been shot down by several orcs, he was unsure if the beast still lived but he knew it was no longer able to remain in this fight. 

As they reached the bridge Toron bypassed the hoards swarming in, leaping onto the narrow railing and charging across that.  Nim needed but to hold her blade out to strike down any who tried to charge towards them on the brooded stretch of stone.  When they neared the wall Toron kicked himself upward, his body reaching far higher than it should have.  It was not great enough to breach the wall, and when Bard began to worry as they began to fall he was nearly jostled from his place as Toron’s hooves dug into bits of tattered wall that jutted out.  Bard had to cling to Nim to keep from falling, and she to His antlers.  She seemed unworried though about their perilous tilt going so far as to tease the stag about being part goat before they were rocketing up once more.

The next landing was far rougher, and Bard was slammed against the wall before they were suddenly in the air again and landing on the wall’s edge.  Toron breathed heavily at the top looking over the winding city streets where orcs charged and people fled.

“My children.”  Bard breathed, fear turning his blood to ice. 

“Take Toron, He will help you find them.”  Nim was already sliding off before either the bowman or the stag could protest.  “I will remain on the wall until Toron returns.” 

Bard knew it was a lie as Toron all but dropped onto the ground inside the city.  He didn’t even need to look back to know that the elf was now scrambling down steps to re-enter the fray.  “Do you not worry for her safety?”  Bard asked the stag as he scanned the streets they charged past.

 _Always._   The stag responded darting down one of the streets.

********

It was harder to fight here.  Past and present struggling for priority in her head.  Dale’s streets were too narrow, vastly different from the wind fields that had allowed such warring parts of her mind to coexist.  She focused on the growing pain of her burn.  She had been able to ignore it until the bowman had pointed it out, and now it was steadily demanding more attention.  She was sure by the end of it, she would be in proper agony. 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or how the battle was actually going.  All Nim saw was the orc corpses gathering steadily around her. She liked to think there were far more of those than of people and elves.  She wondered where Toron was, had he been gone long?  She could feel the tether of his mind so she was at least sure he was alive.  She wanted to call to him, return him to her side so she did not feel so bombarded.  Exhaustion was beginning to set in.  She was sure the orcs could smell it as they seemed to become more numerous. 

Someone shouted behind her and she had just enough time to duck before an orc’s head was flying over her.  Whoever had saved her seemed to take the brunt of the attack, it gave Nim a chance to breathe.  She remained crouched there staring at the sightless head of an orc.  For a second she was sure she saw it blink.  She knew she needed to get up, but the very thought of getting to her feet felt impossible.  So instead she closed her eyes pressing the blade of her weapon into the earth for support.

“There are you are, Nimineth.”  Feren sighed obviously relieved.  “Thranduil has seen this cause as hopeless, we have already lost so many.  We need to retreat.”  He wrapped his arm under Nim’s arms and hoisted her up.  “You need aid first, How are you even standing?” 

“Stubbornness,” Nim mumbled letting herself be lifted. 

Feren laughed dryly as they began to move through the now rapidly emptying streets.  “What does he see in you?” Feren asked, his words were not cruel, just curious.  “To most, you are little more than a mad traitor.  I do not know if I wish you to take offense but I am one of those elves.  It is loyalty to my king that makes me carry you now.  I’d rather have you . . . “

“Die?”  Nim asked her head resting on his shoulder.  “I don’t blame you.  I do not regret freeing my brothers . . . but I regret how I did it.  Miniel did say I had a reckless way about me.”  Nim joked but it was empty.  “ I just. . .” Nim closed her eyes, “I just wish he would hate me and stop trying so hard to . . . I don’t know.” It was becoming harder and harder to keep her eyes open.  “I just wish he would stop.  I don’t want whatever it is he is offering.  It would be far easier for everyone if he just . . . hated me.”

“That it would.  Had he kept his heart cold I would not see so many of my kin dead at my feet.” Feren grunted.  “But I cannot damn your whole existence.” The elf admitted reluctantly.  “I have served my king for many a year, and I have watched him become the icy creature we had come to accept as our leader.  But you. . . You brought a warmth back that I have not seen since before we lost our beloved queen.  For that, I will thank you.  But that is all the thanks you will get from me.”

Nim smiled a bit, “I’m glad my trouble brought some good.”  She forced her eyes open as Feren began to lower her to the ground, mumbling on about applying aid before his king arrived.  Nim watched him work, pulling a length of bandages from a pouch and wrapping a wound in her arm. 

“You will not need to worry about me much longer.  I do not believe I will be stepping foot within your woods after this battle.  My place is. . . well, it is not there.”

“As much as I would rejoice at that, I know my king would not,”  Feren admitted begrudgingly.  “I must ask you to reconsider.” He motioned for her to turn around but Nim kept her front to him, “You have been wounded on your back, I will need them bandaged.”

“Let them bleed.  You have stopped enough for it not to kill me.”

“I do not have time for this.” Feren snapped, “I need you alive.  My king needs you alive.  Now turn around.” He ordered.  When Nim resisted he forcefully turned her.  Nim struggled but Feren’s grip on her shoulders kept her in place.  Her weakened state was no match for this trained soldier.

With little grace, he yanked her shirt over her head and scoffed, “Did you even try to fight back?  Or did you just let them beat you?”  He scolded and roughly began to wrap the bandages around her torso.  His work was not kind.  The wrapping tight enough to make it difficult to breathe.

Nim held her tongue as the other worked, talking seemed to take too much energy now.  He did not gasp in disgust, draw away or stare.  He simply went to work, doing his best to be cruel while trying to help her.  She prayed the blood would never wash away.  He did not see scars, did not see horror.  The blood hid them away as current wounds.  It was a relief to have one look upon her back in such a way.  When he finished he yanked her shirt down and then after a moment of thought he reached for the clasp around his neck and removed his cape from his shoulders.

“As vulgar as I find you, you are still a lady.” He carefully set the shoulder guards over her shoulders, adjusting them so they sat better on her smaller frame before moving around to clasp it together.  “There.  A bit of work and you could look like a proper elf.”  He added insolently. 

“I am not an elf,” Nim said back but before Feren could shoot back any other remarks Thranduil and a small group of elves stepped out from one of the many winding alleyways.

“Nimineth.”  Thranduil spoke softly, his gaze full of meaning.  Nim did not meet it.  “Have you tended to her wounds?”  His sharpened gaze sliced to Feren who at once bowed his head humbly.

“As well as I could.  I will be able to apply proper aid once we have returned home, my lord.” 

“Good, get me a steed, she will be unable to walk the distance.” Thranduil motioned and Feren jumped to wrap his arm back around Nim and hoist her up, “Sound the call Feren, It is high time we left this forsaken-“

“Sire!” Three elves clattered down another alleyway, the last slewing an orc that had dared give chase.  “We spotted your son and the lady Tauriel.  They were headed after the dwarves to Raven hill.  The wizard said they had information of more orcs coming from over the ridge.”

“The fools.”  Thranduil spat.  “I told him to leave that stupid woman alone.  If she wants to die for false love then let her.”

At his words, Nim refocused on Thranduil, “You are saying Kili is on that mountain?” Before Thranduil could speak she removed Feren’s arm from around her and stumbled to lean against a wall.  “If Kili is up there . . . Fili must be with them!  Thranduil we must get troops up there at once! 

“Are you mad?  Enough elven blood has been spilled for this hopeless cause. No, I am pulling my forces and you are coming with me.  I will not see another elf fall for these dwarves.”

“You are not my king,”  Nim said boldly.  “You will not command me to do anything.”

“Then I will force you, Feren bind her,” Thranduil ordered.

 _I would not do that._   Toron snorted stepping out.  He moved from behind a pillar that looked far too small to hide the great beast.  A few elves jerked at his sudden appearance, unused to the stag’s strange movements.  Thranduil did not even blink.

“She is wounded, she is dying.  Look at her beast!”

 _I am a king!_   Toron bellowed slamming his hooves down in a challenging stance.

“You would have her die than let me help her?”  Thranduil challenged back.

 _If you are foolish enough to believe this could kill my little one, then I would not trust you with a single hair upon her head._   Toron lowered his head and Nim took hold allowing him to place her upon his back. _Return to your hole, the real warriors will finish this fight._

Nim did not scold his antagonizing words.  Nor did Thranduil shoot back his own threats.  His eyes were trained on her, Nim’s face pressed into the stag’s neck.  Her skin was beginning to look as pale as his fur.  As if sensing his gaze Nim pulled herself away and motioned to a bow left abandoned on the ground.  Toron hooked it with an antler and gave it to her.

“Why?  Why are you doing this? To prove something?”  Thranduil demanded.

“My brothers are in danger,”  Nim said simply testing the strength of the string. 

“You truly are mad!”  Thranduil declared, “Look at you, you can’t even stand on your own let alone fire a bow!  The most you will be doing is getting yourself killed by the end of an orc's blade!” 

“stop treating me as if I am breakable!” Nim snapped back, “I can handle a great deal more than this.” 

“More? You have nothing more!  You cannot use those scars as a gauge for what you can handle!  Those were given to an elf who was whole, who wasn’t. . . wasn’t broken!  You are broken Nim!”

“I am not!” Nim snapped, her lip beginning to tremble.

“But you are!  Look at yourself!  I can hardly tell when you walk within this world or another.  Do you even see what is around you now?  Or are you half lost in something of the past?  Face it, Nim, you are broken.”

“ _SILENCE_!”  Toron and Nim shouted together, their voices making the air rumble.  Before Thranduil knew it, He was pressed up against a wall with the tips of Toron’s antlers digging into his chest.  Elves drew their weapons but none dared fire.  By the time they could take down the stag their king would be gone as well.

Nim sat, her head and shoulders visible through the wall of thorns.  “I. Am.  Not.  Broken.”  Nim hissed, “I am not!  I do not need you or anyone to fix me.”  Nim touched Toron’s neck and he drew back with a snort, “We are wasting time, Fili and Kili need us.” 

“You will die up there!”  Thranduil tried again.  “Broken or not you are in no state to face any threat.”

“Family is worth dying for.  You would know that if you remembered you had any.”  Nim spat before urging Toron away.  Within seconds both were out of sight. 

Thranduil stared at the space where he had seen them last as if unable to registered she had properly gone.  He waited for the anger to set in, the rage at her insolence and disrespect.  He knew it should be there, he would have ordered any who had dared such threats to be imprisoned for life.  Yet, all he felt was a growing concern.  She was so pale, lost so much blood, and there was only a promise of more loss up there.

 “Sire?”

Thranduil refocused on Feren, who exchanged a quick and worried look with a few other captains. With an impatient grunt, he motioned for Feren to speak while he righted his rumpled robes.

“Shall I sound the horn for retreat?  There is yet still time before the incoming orcs overtake Raven hill.”

Retreating.  They were retreating.  While she trooped up to the hill to face off against an army he was returning his men to the safety of their home.  The idea began to sicken him.  Still, he could not force his men to fight in a battle they no longer wished to fight in.  They would do it if he asked, their loyalty ran deep, but . . .

“Find a few able elves, gather the wounded and remove them from this place as quickly as possible, before those orcs wash over this place.  The rest of you will return to the great hall and help fortify it and offer any aid you can to the bowman and his people.”

“Then. . . we are not retreating?”  Feren asked hesitantly.

“Did that sound like an order for a retreat?”  Thranduil demanded and Feren quickly ducked his head with an apology before quickly calling for a few other elves to divvy out the tasks.

“You will await further instruction until my return.” 

“Return?  My lord you cannot be thinking-?”  Feren turned, “At least let me select a guard to accompany you.” 

“You will need all you can here.”  Thranduil dismissed, “Besides, I have a feeling Nim will have dispatched with an orc that may have slowed my pass.  If Bard needs anything of you, listen to it.”  He added though he disliked giving control of any of his troops to another. 

“Is she really worth, all this?  One insane elf?”  Feren pressed, rather boldly, Thranduil thought.

“I have tried to find real hatred for her, Feren. But it has refused to settle within me.”  Thranduil sighed, “Besides, my foolish son is up there and. . . “Thranduil lifted Nim’s abandoned blade from the ground, “I never knew her before my wife left my side, but Miniel saw her as family.  I cannot leave her to her fate, even if I must drag her and the stag down kicking and screaming.” 

“May you return to us swiftly and fruitfully,”  Feren said stiffly. 

Thranduil bowed his head a bit, ignoring the displeasure on his commander’s face.  He turned towards the space once occupied by Nim and began following after the hoof marks left in the earth.

 


	23. lost and found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I die today, it will be after doing something good. You wait, Thorin, king under the mountain. You kill that monster and I will return your nephew to you. If you have no faith in me, at least have faith in a dying woman’s last words. Fili will come home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! At least not until I get another massive dose of writer's block that keeps me from posting the next chapter in a timely matter. This chapter was a challenge, to say the least. But I'm rather proud of how it turned out. There are probably only two chapters left now, and I will try my very best not to keep you all waiting for so long.

_Little one, you can rest no longer._

Nim blinked, the world was grey and blurred.  With each flutter of a lash, the world became clearer and brighter until it pained Nim and she shut them again.  When she finally opened her eyes properly the world was no longer harsh but the edges of her vision remained perpetually unfocused.

Toron had to pull from the main path after the first handful of orcs.  Nim could hardly keep herself upright by the time she had removed the last threat.  Arrows still pinged against the rough hillside now and again.  But the ground crumbled too quickly for the orcs to give any serious chase.  Though the ground would crumble below his own hooves at times, it held far better below his slim hooves.

_I wish to turn back._

“It’s not like you to turn down a good fight against an orc.”  Nim hummed redrawing her blade from the sheath on Toron’s saddlebags. 

 _I would enjoy nothing more than gutting every last one of them._  Toron dismissed.  _I would let them all live if it meant keeping you alive._

“I want you to go to Kili,”  Nim said softly.

_Mother-_

“Hush my little fawn, we knew our time together would not be forever.”  Nim soothed stroking his neck. 

_Yes, but it was not you who was to leave._

“Kili care well for you.  His spirit is too wild to remain within the mountain forever.  He will wish to explore now that he has tasted the outside world.  Besides Thorin will need someone to keep his head in place.  He has shaken is dragon sickness for now but I would not be surprised if it returned.” 

_I do not wish-_

“I know my little fawn.”  Nim hushed drawing her hands down to rest on his shoulder.  His muscles moved smoothly, so full of power.  Toron never seemed tired, always brimming with power.  Even now, beaten and battered from battle his strides did not falter or slip. 

Nim was tired though, to keep her eyes open felt like a marathon.  Looking at her skin she could not deny its ghostly pallor.  She was one to be immortal and yet she stood upon death's door, waiting for the reaper to open the door and let her in.  She would not last, she could feel her very soul beginning to slip away, fraying at the edges.

_There is still time. . ._

“You know there is not,” Nim whispered her eyes drawing up to the hills top now nearly below Toron’s hooves.  “Just do one thing for me.”

_Anything._

“Leave befo- “

 _No!  You cannot ask that of me!_   Toron jerked to a stop, _I refuse to leave your side._

“But you must, my sweet fawn.  I do not wish to die, I wish to remain just beyond the horizon just as we were before.  Leave me and I will always be just out of your sight.  Will you grant me this one last request, my old friend?  Let me return to my story.”

Toron’s breath shuttered as she let it out, he turned his head to look upon his little one.  He saw the creature washed up on the riverside.  Beaten and bloodied and so very tired.  He had let her rest then, and even if it broke his heart, he would let her rest once more. 

_Yes, my one._

Nim smiled, bright and suddenly alive.  “You shall outlive this world, and so long as you walk this earth I will be with you.  Now, let us end this war.”

Toron bounded the last few yards to the top and searched the crumbling stone.  Dead orcs lay sprinkled about and two dwarves stood, staring out across the frozen river.  Nim lifted her gaze and felt what little blood left within her freeze to ice.  The dwarves did not react at first, their eyes not as powerful as her own. 

******************************

_“Don’t move Fili,”  Nim whispered, her bowstring drawn tight.  “Just hold still.”_

_“No!  You’ll hit me!” The young dwarf gasped but remained as still as his quivering body would allow._

_Nim was sure he could feel the breath of the great cat upon his neck, feel the burn of hunger in its gaze.  Dis had warned them, she had warned them again and again.  The lands past the markers were dangerous, even for dwarves.  The creatures grew large here, feeding off the livestock they stole.  Now though, it was not livestock the beast hungered for._

_“I won’t hit you I promise.  I have to hit it right or- “_

_“Or what Nim?  What?”  Fear raised the young boy’s voice and the cat inched a bit closer.  The creature was smart, could see Nim and knew she carried a weapon.  It was waiting for either her or the child to slip up.  Should Fili run it would be too risky to let loose an arrow, should she miss her mark the creature would have enough time to snatch the boy away.  Nim had to be perfect or else she would lose her beloved dwarf._

_“One. . .”_

_“No! no! I’m scared.”  Fili ducked his head and drew his arms in tight to his body.  The cat crept closer._

_“Two . . . “ Nim tugged the string back just a bit more, the cat’s muscles tensed._

_“I’m scared Nim.”_

_“Me too.”  Nim arched upwards and let the arrow go just as the creature leaped into the air._

*****************************************

 The memory flashed through her head as she looked upon the scene before her.  There was no longer a mountain cat, but the bloodlust of dwarf’s threat was just as strong.  Her eyes quickly scanned the ground around her, desperate for anything to stop this from happening. 

“Quickly Toron.”  Nim motioned to one of the great pillars as her fingers reached back to grab for an arrow.  The stag leaped forward, startling the few who stood before her.  One of them spoke her name but she paid them no mind.  She doubted they would have given a response.  She heard Thorin’s panicked cry as they caught sight of what she had seen.

Fili, broken and bloodied and clasped in the white orc’s arms.  

“I ask one thing of the gods,”  Nim whispered as she hefted herself onto the crumbling stone.  “Of those in the Valar, Of Illuvitar.  Or whoever the hell is out there watching over this blood-splattered ground.”  Rocks gave way underfoot and Nim stumbled and clung to the stone, her foot just barely brushed the tip of Toron’s tallest antler.

She gritted her teeth and pulled herself up the rest of the way, “I have asked nothing of you, ever.  I carved my own way in this world.  But I am asking now, and damn it, you better give it to me after the fires I have faced.” 

Her legs shook as she stood upright on the crumbling tower of stone.  She pulled her bow from around her shoulder and set an arrow into its grasp. She tried to pull the string back ounce and her arm shook, the arrow clattering to the ground below her.  She quickly drew back another one.  Already the orc was hefting Fili high, the blade that was his arm preparing to run him through.

“You save these dwarves; do you hear me.  Save them, protect them, let them grow and have young and then die in peace.”  Nim’s hand shook as she struggled to keep the strength needed to keep the string taught.  “You can have me, all of me.  Do what you want but you can’t. have. Them.”

The arrow flew and Nim knew at once that it was not right.  She let the bow fall from her hands as she reached desperately to retake the weapon she had let fly.  She threw herself forward her fingers brushing against the tips of the feathered end. She hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that stole her breath and left her gasping. 

She didn’t see the arrow hit, but she felt it as clearly as Fili.  His cry echoed hers as it passed into the flesh of his side.  She cursed any who had created this land and her.  The orcs blade pierces the dwarf and as he cried choked off she lifted her head to watch him fall.  Nim let her head fall back down, feeling the blackness start to swarm over her consciousness.

_Unhand her!_

Toron’s furious bellow was followed by a harsh yank of her hair and the press of a blade to her throat.  “Give me one good reason not to gut you now.” Thorin snarled.  Nim blinked struggling to right her mind.  For a second the dwarf was not a dwarf but a goblin cackling and drooling over her.  “Speak bitch!”

 _That is enough!_   With a swing of his head, Toron sent Thorin flying.  Dwalin raised his ax but did not charge.  _She is suffering enough without you hurtling your insults._   Toron lowered his head and nosed Nim.  She winced but lifted her head again.  Dwalin looked away when he saw fresh blood beginning to seep through the back of her shirt. 

“The creatures nearly dead, come on, we need to get the boys,”  Dwalin grunted helping Thorin back to his feet. 

“I’ll save Fili.” Nim gasped stopping both dwarves.  “If it is the last thing I do- “

“Drop it, elf.”  Thorin spat, “Your dead walking if you don’t go down to your little king.”

Something dark crossed Nim’s face and she reached out a hand, Toron obediently tilted his head so she could grab hold of his crown and let him lift her.  Once her feet were under her she let her hand rest on Toron, making sure her legs would keep.  Then she crossed the distance that separated the two pairs. 

“I have no king.”  Nim snarled, “I am a queen among queens.  The land I step upon is mine and I would rather die than let any other rule over my life again.”  She turned, and even though her legs shook and her gate was unsteadied but stubborn as she returned to her bow.  She lifted it from the ground as well as her abandoned bow.   “If I die today, it will be after doing something good.  You wait, Thorin, king under the mountain.  You kill that monster and I will return your nephew to you.  If you have no faith in me, at least have faith in a dying woman’s last words.  Fili will come home.” 

Dwalin glanced at Thorin.  Though his scowl did not leave him, Thorin saw something different in that withering form of an elf.  Few times had he met creature outside of dwarves that had no fear of death.  Especially an elf, a creature so frightened of it they did not die.  The elf before him seemed to be embracing it, welcoming it even.

He could not find words to convey what he felt, so instead settled for a nod which she returned. 

They disappeared quickly after that, rushing to find the remaining boy and to slaughter the beast who had hurt her brother so dearly.  Nim sagged against Toron, fresh tears staining her face.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Bilbo’s voice surprised Nim, she had not seen the tiny creature, “you need to go back, we can handle this up here.” 

Nim shook her head forcing her body to straighten.  She reached out to Toron once more, his antler finding her hand so he could lift her back onto his back.  “It was an honor to meet you, Bilbo.  You keep that dwarf of yours in line.  I will see you on the horizon.”

****************************

 _I can smell him._   Toron stopped staring down the cliff side.  _See there, the blood.  He must have dragged himself into some opening. Do you see?_

Nim blinked forgetting where she was for a moment.  She leaned over and then closed her eyes suddenly feeling dizzy.  She could see the splotch of red but it was blurry and unfocused.  Her sight was beginning to leave her. 

“I’ll need to climb down.  The stones will only get slicker the closer we get to the ice.  He will need aid as soon as possible.   Find a safe path down.  I will keep him stable until you can get to us.”  She could feel Toron’s displeasure at the thought of separating but he did not voice it.

She secured a rope around a pillar and then carefully wrapped it around her hips.  Toron urged her to be careful before Nim carefully stepped herself back over the cliffside.  She needed to move quickly, should an orc archer see her she would be helpless to stop his arrow from killing her.  She pushed the thought from her mind and dropped a few more yards. 

She had to rest a moment when her feet finally touched the ground below.  She waved up to Toron who was peering down, his worry for her was all but visible within the link between them.  She sucked in a breath and let the rope drop and began to follow the trail of blood.  The sounds of Toron’s hooves echoed as he retreated but were quickly drowned by the sound of dying orcs.

“You need to rest.”

Nim jerked her head up and scanned the land around her.  She had heard the voice clear as day but there was not a soul in sight.  Nim drew her blade, in case it was indeed a threat.  Though Nim was not sure, the voice did not sound anything like an orc, nor did it have the graveled tones of a dwarf.  She knew Tauriel and Legolas were around here someplace, but if it were them why would they hide?

“You need to keep your eyes open.”

Nim jerked again, her eyes had fallen shut.  She shoved herself off the side of the frigid stone.  Fili was smart, blood ran all along this ground here and there were so many little cracks and openings, he could be in any one of them.  She poked her hand into a particularly small one her hand drawing back with little more than a bit of eroding bone.  She sagged against the stone, hopelessness beginning to seep in.  How was she to find him?  She could hardly walk let alone defend them if an orc was to stumble upon them.  Besides, she was tired, so very very tired.

“Come on, Wildflower, stay with me.” 

The voice called again and it was like she had been dropped back into the river that birthed her.  She sucked in a lung full of air, prepared to face whoever was out there.  This was not a game, and she would not be played with. 

“Come out you filth!” Nim hissed lifting her blade, “Taunting a dead woman never end well for the living party, I promise you.”  She started towards a corner, away from the blood.  The had to be hiding there.  Some elf who wanted to torment her, she was sure.  Her unwilling savior had stated quite clearly that he wanted her dead.  She was sure there was some that would enjoy twisting the blade before it killed her.

She rounded the corner her blade at the ready only to find it as deserted as the space behind her.  She dropped her blade a furious cry bubbling in her throat.  Before it passed her lips though she heard it, a faint groan. 

She spun around making herself dizzy at the sudden movement.  She staggered against the wall and held her breath.  The noise came again and she half ran half stumbled to the opening it had come from.  Her hips hit the wall as she hit a patch of ice and fell.  She bit her lip to suppress the cry of pain.  Fili, she had to hold on for Fili.  With a groan of her own she forced herself onto her hands and knees.

The gap was narrow, and the inside black.  The opening was just large enough for a body to slip through, foundation and wall splitting just enough to provide sanctuary.  She carefully lowered herself down into the opening, finding that after the initial slope it dropped down even further.   Nim held onto the stone until she was practically dangling from the fractured end of the stone.  The fall wasn’t far, a few feet at most, but it rattled Nim’s battered body all the same. 

It took a moment longer than it should of for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but there huddled in a corner was Fili.  Nim let out a breath of relief at the sight of him.  He was as horridly pale as herself but even with her failing sight, she could see the faint rise and fall of his chest.

“Oh Fili.”  Nim breathed carefully lifting His limp form.  “I’m glad our stubbornness runs in the family.” She joked weakly brushing away a bit of gravel.  “It doesn’t look like it should kill you.”  She murmured her gaze focusing on the large gash now on his side.  Nim situated the dwarf before, brushing away large rocks to make it slightly more comfortable for his head to lay upon.  She dug into her pack and pulled free the small leather pouch Sigrid had given her some time ago. 

It was held a handful of healing items.  Clean cloth, needle and thread, and a few withered herbs.  Nim selected the needle and thread as well as the few lengths of kingsfoil.  She cut the leather straps from his armor and tossed it aside and ripped the fabric away from the wound.  She poured water from her canteen into the wound and after a look of sympathy she began to search the wound for any larger bits of debris.

“At least the beast knows how to make a clean wound.” Nim wiped her hand clean of the dwarf’s blood before dumping the rest of the water onto the wound.  “Now I wish I took up the habit of carrying a bit of ale with me.”  Nim sighed lifting the needle and thread. 

She placed the wilted kingsfoil in her mouth to chew it into pulp.  The fresh juice was like fire on her tongue but she didn’t stop.  If Fili could endure the pain of her tying his flesh together she could manage a few leaves in her mouth.  With that she began to work on the flesh, carefully pulling the length of string between the two edges to pull them together. 

She had never stitched a wound before, though her hands moved confidently as they worked.  Nim had learned long ago not to question the things her body knew how to do but her mind did not.  It was no different than her skills with a blade, she never learned from a master and yet she handled one as confidently as any warrior.  Trying to think on how she had come to know these things always lead to . . . pain. 

She tugged at the last stitch making sure it was tight before she knotted it and cut away the extra.  She spat the crushed herb into her hand and pressed it into the newly closed wound.  The juices must have stung because Fili flinched and groaned. 

Feet suddenly thundered above and Nim tensed moving as quickly as she could to pull herself and Fili out of the light and into the shadow of the opening.  When she was sure he was comfortable she moved to peek back out.  The sounds of fighting grew louder.  The battle had begun once more now.  She felt for Toron, he was with the bald dwarf.  Both dropping orcs left and right as they fought through the swarm. 

Nim send him what strength she could before refocusing on Fili.  Just as she sat back down she heard a voice cry out.

“Kili!”

Nim couldn’t help her smile at the sound of Tauriel’s voice, Kili’s returning shout following shortly after.  Perhaps whoever was controlling this mess had really heard her.  With Tauriel at his side, Kili would be fine.  She pulled Fili’s head to her lap and worked a few tangles from his golden mane.

“Do you hear that?  They will end this battle quickly, you just need to hold out until then.”  Nim leaned back against the cold wall, half listening to furry of movement above her, making sure no orc thought to stick their head in their little pocket of safety.  Eventually, though her exhaustion returned and she felt herself drift off. 

*************************************

“Tauriel!”

Toron’s ears perked at the shout on the wind.  He tossed the orc he fought aside and tilted his head to where he heard the noise.  The dwarf he had found himself paired with cursed at him as he chipped away an orc that had charged from behind to Toron.

“Wake up you daft beast!” He snapped jabbing Toron’s side with the butt of his ax.

 _I heard the wild one._   Toron grunted shoving another orc down the side of the wall to his doom while he resisted the urge to kick the dwarf.  _I must make sure he is well._

“Aye, that boy is reckless, we do not want to lose both our heirs.  Go, quickly, I’ll make sure they don’t follow.”

 _You will have both._   Toron growled annoyed at the dwarf’s lack of faith.  His little one was wilting yes, but he had not seen such determination burn in her eyes for centuries.  She would not fail this task, even if it meant letting go of this world.

Toron forced the thought from his head, he could not let it cloud his mind now.  As if to prove his point an arrow buried deep into his shoulder.  Toron bellowed in pain charging up the stairs that the orc had fired from and promptly tossed him into the valley below.  He then twisted to pull the arrow free with a fierce yank from his teeth. 

Up here he could see a good bit and it only took him a second more to find the wild one and the dwarf lover.  They battled another orc, this one larger than his counterparts.  He tossed Tauriel and Kili about as if they were nothing.  Toron drew himself up and then leaped. 

Hitting the harsh stone jarred his bones and make his injuries ache but he bounded once more skidding down stone towards the battle.  His injured leg cried in protest as he charged down the flight of stairs.  The beast had tossed Tauriel nearly off the edge and now had Kili helpless as he lifted his weapon to kill him. 

It was as if time had slowed in Toron’s eyes.  He had misjudged his last leap and did not have time to lower his antlers to pierce the monster.  One moment he was in the air and the next with was slamming his chest into the side of the orcs built-in armor.  He could feel it dig into his hide and smelt his own blood as it welled to the surface.  His hooves skidded on the stone as he forced the orc to drop the dwarf as he struggled himself to keep his footing. 

Toron had but a moment to force his head down to block the creature from bashing his head with his mace.  The weapon tangled in his antlers and Toron kicked his back legs forcing their momentum to continue closer and closer to the edge.  The beast realized Toron’s actions and swung himself trying to throw himself back towards safety. 

 _I hope I feel your bones crack when we land filth._   Toron snarled jutting his head forward to pierce the orc’s arm with his crown as they began to spin.  Toron felt his hoof touch air and let his other back leg go limp to pull him down faster.  His makeshift grip was not strong on the beast so the faster he went down the faster he could pull the danger from the two.  He yanked his head back pulling the beast forward over the edge entirely.  _Find little one!_   He shouted as he lost sight of the two.

**************************************************

Nim woke with a flash of pain not her own.  She gasped for air and grabbed hold of the front of Fili’s shirt for support.  She reached out to Toron to make sure he was alright.  She found felt Toron laying upon cold stone, stunned but alive. 

“He’s okay. . .”  Nim breathed resting her head on Fili’s still chest.  Her relief was short-lived, and a coldness filled her veins.  “Fili?  Fili?!”  Nim shook the dwarf gently and then harder.  “No, no no nonononono.” Her breath was gone as she pressed her ear to his chest listening for something, anything. 

She could hear his heart, but it was faint and fading.  Nim couldn’t stop the sob at her lips.  “No, Fili come on come on.”  Nim pounded on his chest trying to coax his heart to beat harder.  But she knew it was failing.  She pressed her face into his chest listening.

“Find him, wildflower.”  The voice from before whispered, Nim turned her head expecting to see the other side of the opening only to find blackness, her eyes no longer strong enough to see through it.  It was like they were right there but there was nothing. 

She had failed, there was nothing more she could do as she listened to her brother’s heart begin to falter.  She took in a shuttered breath and as she let it out she began to feel her own soul begin to slip away as it realized she could do no more in this world for Fili.  She felt her own heart begin to slow and her eyes drooped.

“Find him like I found you.”  The voice whispered in her ear, Nim was sure she could feel warm breath on her cheek as she was swallowed by blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if you disliked all the hopping about with perspectives and memories and what not. I had planned to do just two big chunks but I just couldn't get it to flow right. For some reason the jumping back and forth kind of shows the chaos going on, at least that is what I thought. Don't forget to leave any questions comments or concerns and of course a kudos if you liked it!


	24. Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for somewhat graphic depictions of violence. 
> 
> “you are the elf she spoke of.” Thranduil supplied remembering Nim’s waking words.
> 
> “I am."

The breath was ripped from Toron as he hit the unforgiving stone.  His head was yanked painfully as the orc was ripped from his crown.  His legs kicked uselessly as he struggled to regain his bearings and get back to his feet.  He went limp for a moment his body exhausted and starving for air.  He took stock of his body, nothing felt broken.  He was moving his legs without the sensation of grinding bones.  His neck was thankfully not broken but he was sure several muscles were seriously stretched if not ripped entirely.  Nothing that would need him to retreat. 

“Toron!” Kili’s voice cried from above and the stag had but a second to block the mace that was brought down upon his head.  He felt pieces of his crown shatter and scatter around him as the orc ripped his weapon from his antlers. 

 _I will scatter your limbs across this field!_   Toron bellowed jamming one of the new jagged tips into the beast's leg.  He yanked the creature down and ripped his head free before scrambling to get to his hooves.  His lungs burned as they were forced to work, though their embers were becoming the sparks to light an emotion. 

The Orc let out a war cry and charged forward.  Toron kicked his hooves forward and charged to meet him.  Bone met steel as the two clashed Toron twisted his head once more digging his antlers into the beast’s arm.  It cried out and clawed at his neck and yanked at his ear.  Toron bit his hand clamping down as hard as he could manage. 

 _Be glad I was not given fangs, or I would rip your throat out!_   Toron reared up.  The creature grabbed one of his limbs and began to squeeze.  Toron cried out in pain and did the only thing he could think of to stop the agony.  He tossed them once more down the rocky hillside.  The two tumbled around each other both grabbing and kicking at one another.  The orc’s stench revolted Toron and he could feel it clinging onto his fur.  The metal embedded in his chest scrapping at his legs ripping away strips of fur and flesh.  Each new twinge of pain adding fuel to his anger.

Toron was blessed to land in a position he could get up from.  He darted a few yards away and turned to the beast who was slowly getting to his feet.  Toron noted the grotesque twist in his leg, his foot nearly bent backward.  He bared his teeth at the stag who returned the gesture as he turned.  He too found himself having to slow his movements.  The ground was loose and with his body thoroughly beaten it would take little more than a fall to snap one of his legs or break his neck. 

Some part of him told him to back away, this was his chance to get away.  Even on such dangerous ground, he would be far quicker than the orc, he could get away.  He even found himself taking a few steps back.  Another growing part of him was telling him to run that beast through.  That kindling in his chest was now spreading below his pelt, embers growing into an inferno.

It whispered all the things these creatures had done to his little one.  The centuries of nightmares brought upon her.  The scars.  At that moment this orc was each and every orc that had dared even look upon his little one wrong.  He snorted and planted his hooves on the stone before letting out a furious bellow.

He tried to stomp forward but found his hooves slipping and struggling to find footing.  The orc noticed his momentary struggle and began to stagger forward.  This was foolish, he knew it, but that rage below his pelt could not be quelled.  The ground be damned, his beaten body ignored.  He would kill this sneering filth, ram his antler through his chest and listen to his heart stop. 

_I will make you regret being born._

He replanted his hooves till he felt semi-solid ground below them.  The orc was getting closer now, his mace was gone but he was now pulling a blade from his chest armor.  He must of believed Toron was too stunned or stuck because he was grinning as he dragged his ruined leg behind him. 

Toron tensed.

The orc took one more stumbling step and Toron pounced.  The orc Let out a startled cry and tried to move away, his lame foot keeping him from moving more than a foot or two away.  Toron was already descending when the orc twisted back around and readied his blade.

Toron felt the crude weapon bite into his side as he slammed into the creature.  It bit again and again, relentless to puncture something vital.  He didn’t bother to try and catch himself and let his great size take the beast down to the ground.  The orc snarled something in his tongue and rammed the blade in again, twisting it this time.  Toron squealed and smashed his head down ramming his antlers into the other’s face.

The orc kept stabbing and Toron kept bashing until the blood oozing from his wounds caused the orc to drop his last weapon.  The orc was not done though, he grabbed at Toron’s hide, dug his fingers into the wound.  The orc was becoming disoriented with so many blows to his face now beginning to register.  His grip became sloppy and Toron took the opportunity to push himself up.  The orc’s hand fell away from his wound and Toron felt his hoof crush one of his hands.  As he felt his hooves under him once more be began smashing them into the Orc’s chest. 

Toron felt just as disoriented as the Orc, the bloodless making his mind hazy.  Unlike the failing orc, Toron had a lifeline.  He clung to the presence of his little one in his mind, clung desperately as his hooves came down again and again.  He kept going until he felt bone begin to break and give way below the creature’s flesh.  Striking until the embedded armor in his chest was nearly collapsed into his chest.

The orc let out a garbled and blood-filled cry.  Toron reared up again and plated his hooves on either side of the dying orc’s head.

Toron lowered his head.  _I hope wherever you go, it hurts.  I hope you relive the feeling of my hooves shattering your body.  And when my body finally fails this realm I will hunt you down and do it all again._

The orc’s breath now sounded more like drowning.  Blood trickled from his mouth and his eyes were hooded and glazed.  Toron began to right himself when the beast’s eyes suddenly flashed open.  Toron tried to rear up but the orc had grabbed hold of his antlers.  With a final blood laden cry, the orc twisted Toron’s head and tossed him down the sloping hillside. 

Toron tumbled the rocks tearing and filling his already painfilled wounds.  He tried to stop himself or at least slow his decent but everything he tried only brought more pain to him.  He was finally stilled by a large jutting of stone.  He slammed into it and he once more felt the air leave him.  He could only lay there in a crumpled heap as he struggled to get air back into him once more. 

He began to shift, to at least lay in a slightly more comfortable position as he moved a leg he cried out in pain feeling bone grind against bone.  He dropped his head to the stone, he hated being right.  He tried to move again only to end up jerking and swinging his antlers wildly as he felt a hand touch his neck. 

“Easy, easy!” The hand the grabbed his antler was not large and the voice was low and quiet.  Toron struggled a bit more before letting his head fall down once more.  The hand gently stroked his neck pressing here and there to feel for injuries. 

“What were you thinking, you’re lucky it’s a leg and not a neck.”  Thranduil hissed.

 _I thought you were retreating, coward._   Toron spat Yanking his head away from Thranduil’s grip.  _Go back to your little hole in the ground and leave us to clean up your mess._

“A spiteful little elf and her oversized deer tossed me across a field and smacked a bit of sense back into me.”  Thranduil said, “Reminded me of the Soldier I once was.”  He touched the dozen or so slashes and gouges of flesh in Toron’s side, “Be glad you hide is thick, some of these blows should have killed you.”  He flicked a bit of gravel out of one of the larger gashes. 

_Leave me alone, we do not need you here._

“Are you going to get out of here on your own?  With a broken leg?”  Thranduil got to his feet and moved around to examine the limb in question.  “The break feels clean enough.”  Thranduil shifted about and found a stick before he pressed it to the side of the break and began to secure it with a length of bandage. 

“This will have to do for now, at least until we get you to Erebor to a proper medic.” 

 _I am not going anywhere without little one._   Toron growled, _get my leg so I can walk so I can return to her._

“I can go to her, she would never forgive me if I let your leg heal wrong.”

Toron snorted as he laid his head down.  Thranduil pressed him for answers as he began dumping his canteen into Toron’s wounds to flush the dirt and filth from it.  Toron remained resolutely silent as the elf worked and the longer it went on the faster Thranduil’s anger grew.

Thranduil grabbed hold of one of Toron’s antlers and yanked his head so that the stag was forced to face him.  Toron’s nostrils flared as he snorted and tried to jerk away but Thranduil’s grasp did not falter.  The stag tried to get to his feet but Thranduil grabbed his bad leg and yanked him back into the gravel.

_I will kill you like that orc._

“And I will make you tell me where she is one way or another.”  Thranduil snarled back, “Listen well beast, I have lost one dear to me, I do not plan to stand by and let it happen again.  Now talk.”

Toron bared his teeth and Thranduil grabbed the break in Toron’s leg and squeezed.  Toron glared his bared teeth now preventing any pained noises from exiting his mouth.  _You harm me you will never see her again._   He growled when Thranduil let up.

“But I will know she is alive.  Speak.”

Toron held his gaze for a long moment before he leaned his head forward.  His nose brushed Thranduil’s hand and the elf felt his world become disjointed.  He was running through the ruins on the hill though it fell more like spinning as his mind tried to figure out his body rested in the great beast’s memories.  The memory focused on Nim looking haggard and even paler than when he had last seen her.  He focused on the rupture in the stone.

 _Do not touch her when you find her._   Toron warned when he returned the elf to his body.  Thranduil leaned back grounding himself into his body.  _She uses her strength to give the dwarf time.  Should you startle her they both may lose their grasp on this realm.  Hela the dwarf and she should awaken._

“That is dangerous, deadly even for the strongest of elves.”

_You should never doubt little one’s strength._

“I will send my son and Tauriel to fetch you once I’ve gathered Nim.”  Thranduil promised.  Toron snorted and laid his head down and let his mouth lay agape.  Thranduil wanted to question only to realize that like this he looked rather dead. 

“Just a bit longer my ghost.  I’ll drag you off this hillside kicking and screaming if I must.” 

***

“Lord Thranduil?”

The elf spun around his blade at the ready.  He lowered it as he spotted Tauriel leading a wounded dwarf through the ruins.  The two regarded each other for a moment. Tauriel looking like she was debating whether or not to strike the king down.  The dwarf seemed to pick this up and he reached up to touch her arm in a far too familiar way.

“We need to find her first.”  He murmured.

“I know where Nim is at, the stag’s leg is broken.  He is halfway down the hillside playing dead.  He will need help getting back to the mountain.  I will return with Nimineth- “

“If you think I’m going to let you lay one hand on my sist-augh” The dwarf started to storm towards him before he grabbed his shoulder and dropped to his knee in obvious pain.  “She told me you locked her up, let her scream. . .”  He gritted out.

“And I will regret that moment for a long time coming.  Tauriel, I will need whatever healing supplies you have.”  Thranduil held out his hand and after a moment she unhooked the small pouch from her hip and handed it over much to her dwarf’s surprise.

Thranduil continued without glancing back even though he was sure the dwarf was cursing him in his native tongue.  The higher up the hill he went the quieter it became.  He spotted a dwarf or two in the distance but only spared them a passing glance.  The battle seemed to be over but Thranduil felt on edge.  Though he knew where the cave was at he couldn’t help but pause to glance into any large opening to make sure she was not in there.  They were always empty and each time he paused he felt the tension in him grow.  It felt like someone was watching him, urging him to keep moving and to hurry.  He even stopped twice to scan the area around himself to make sure no one was actually there. 

It was like he was back in the woods, his ghost floating about the trees above him, her eyes on him just out of sight.  Though these eyes seemed less . . . real.  He wondered if her madness was rubbing off on him.  He mused over this thought before he felt something grab him. 

His blade slashed through the air and bit into nothing.  He was sure he felt something grab his shoulder.  There was no doubt, he could still feel the fingers digging into his cloak.  He scanned the land again, he almost overlooked the crack at his feet.  It was tucked into the stone in a way that it could easily be mistaken as a groove in the earth.

“Nimineth?” He called softly into the darkness.  The opening looked hardly large enough for a dwarf to fit into.  He scanned the ruins around him once more before he slipped into the opening feet first.  He was relieved to feel the cave open significantly as he slid in.  He dropped into the darkness and felt the rush of relief as his eyes spotted Nim’s white hair nearly glowing in the dark. 

He reached for her and then drew back remembering the stag’s words.  He held his hand just above Nim’s shoulder and then pulled it back.  She was doing more than just sharing strength from what he could sense.  He opened Tauriel’s bag and began to pick through the dried herbs and other things shifting his focus to the dwarf and his wounds.  He wanted to touch her, but he knew that a touch could kill her. 

Toron was not wrong, Nimineth was sharing her strength but she herself was so weak she was now little more than a single thread holding the dwarf and herself to this world.  It was not unheard of.  Two of his healers were trained to do something similar when elves were critically injured.  Even the healers at top form rarely used this form of healing as it could easily lead to death.  A single slip in concentration could cause them to lose grip and die with their patients.  His only choice was to heal the dwarf pull him back from the edge and in turn, bring Nimineth with him. 

He had not needed to do such things in an age, but the incantations and actions came to him with ease. He was reminded why he made Tauriel leader of the guard.  Her little pack was nearly overfilled with dried herbs and oils.  Some were for little more than easing a slight burn to chasing black poison from a being’s body.  He picked out what he believed would be best and went to work.

The sun was hanging heavy in the air when Thranduil picked up the first strong beat of the dwarf’s heart.  He paused in his murmuring and drew his hands back.  He heard another beat and then another.  With a sigh of relief, he held his hand over Nim and could feel her growing stronger, if only slightly. 

“Father- “

“Not even remotely.”  Thranduil began cleaning up the herbs, “Try not to move just yet.  You have been half dead for some time and your body will most likely feel numb in places.”

“Half dead?”  Fili groaned his hands flexing and then patting his body.  Thranduil stopped his hand before he touched the stitching on his side.  He could feel the dwarf tense under his grasp, but he did not yank away.

“Why isn’t Nim moving?”

“She is returning to herself, she made herself into a tether to keep you alive until help could come.  It is by the grace of the valar that it did not kill her.”  He held his hand over her once more, her heartbeat was stronger, but it was taking far longer than it should for her to regain consciousness. 

“Is she going to be alright?”  Fili tilted his head down, so he could see her face still resting on his chest. 

“She isn’t dead, but she is far from out of danger.  The moment she awakens we must get her to proper treatment.  The herbs I added to your wound will keep in numb for some time.  You’ll have to walk yourself back to the mountain.  Toron’s leg is broken and I will need to carry Nim.”

“I wouldn’t let you carry me if both my legs were broken.”  Fili grumbled his face twisting with disgust, “IS she supposed to cry” He asked his face arching upward in concern.

“She weeps?”  Thranduil leaned forward to see a few damp droplets fall onto the dwarf’s shirt.  “She is awakening the feeling of her wounds must be painful.”

“Nim doesn’t cry when she is hurt.”  Fili dismissed and before Thranduil could tell him otherwise he reached up and touched Nim’s cheek. 

The she-elf reacted violently.  Ripping herself upwards and sucking in air as if she was drowning.  Thranduil could all but see her heart going from faint to the flutter of a bird’s.  Her hands grabbed her shoulders as if seeking something out, her head twisted from one side to another looking as well. 

“Hey, hey hey.”  Fili twisted so he could sit up and was grabbing at Nim’s arms, “Right here, Nim right here.”  He snapped his fingers and her gaze focused on him.  “You’re okay, it’s okay.”

“It was him.”  Nim whispered her eyes wide, “The elf in the cage, the elf who died.  He told me how . . . “She drew her brow together and touched Fili’s face, “You’re alright.”  She sagged in relief.

“I’m good, thanks to you and . . .”  He shrugged towards Thranduil.

Nim frowned at first when she saw Thranduil, but it soon fell away, “She would be proud.” 

Thranduil cleared his throat as he felt it grow thick. He got to his feet and folded his hands together to create a boost for the dwarf.  Thranduil hide his disgust as he felt the bottom of his boot on his hand as he helped the dwarf back into the open world. 

“I can walk.”  Nim Persisted as Thranduil turned to help her up. 

“You have more than proven your strength to me.  I was a fool to doubt.  Now though let me return you to your stag in one piece.”

Nim allowed him to help her out but insisted on walking on her own.  She was good at masking the pain but Thranduil could almost feel how much agony she was in.  He hooked his arm around her shoulders and took on some of her weight.  As they moved slowly downhill he found himself carrying more and more until her head began to lull and he had no choice but to scoop her up and properly carry her. 

The dwarf casted side glances towards the two but remained blessedly silent until a group of dwarves on goats ran to them with great cheering.  They hoisted their companion up onto a spare ram and Thranduil was glad for the change in pace.  His own fatigue was beginning to claw at him and he wanted to return to the mountain soon as possible. 

***

“Brother!” Kili all but threw himself at his brother who groaned in pain but returned the hug none the less.  Thorin was behind him and patted Fili’s back before turning to look at the elven king.

“She needs aid.”  Thranduil shifted Nim in his arms, Thorin tilted his head to the right where several dwarves and surprisingly some of his elves were sitting waiting for treatment.  He walked down the hall and into the room where the dwarf healer and his own from his kingdom worked around some of the more critical patients.

“There you are!” The elf rounded on Thranduil and all but pulled Nim from his grasp and onto a bed, “Kili told us she’d be in a bad spot.  Had she listened when she was up on the wall, but no, no one listens to old Oin.  He continued to grumble to himself as he twisted Nim onto her belly and began cutting away at the ruined bandages. 

“Look at this! How does she expect to avoid infection if she gets dirt in the burn like this?”  Oin growled leaving to fetch a bucket of water. 

Thranduil made a point to stand where it would be hardest for his elves to see the scarring.  One was even bold enough to take a step or two towards her before Thranduil chased him off with a glare.  Oin returned and dumped some of the water onto Nim’s back before grabbing a rag and scrubbing at it. 

“Do you have someplace more private for her?”  Thranduil asked glancing towards his healers, “She doesn’t like- “

Oin silenced him with a huff and motioned to a tattered curtain.  Thranduil grabbed it and tugged it out until Nim was mostly hidden away.  Thranduil lingered between the curtain and the dwarf watching as he worked to clean the wounds.  Oin ignored him for the most part until He started to bandage her anew.

“Get some rest elf.”  Oin huffed as he worked the white linen around her torso, “I have no plans on leaving her side till I’m sure she’s grounded in this world properly.”  He arched a brow at Thranduil when the elf king didn’t move right away. 

Thranduil knew he should retort with some sharp comment but he found himself mute.  Instead, he tugged his tattered cloak from his shoulders and set it beside Nim on the bed, “It will be far warmer than anything you have for her.”  He mumbled before retreating.

 _Thank you, elf._ Thranduil was stopped before returning to his people by the stag.  He hobbled up, his broken leg wrapped and pressed between two boards to keep it straight.

Much to his surprise Toron bowed his head a bit and then limped down the hall towards the door where he was all cursed at by Oin for being on his feet instead of resting.  The stag seemed indifferent muscling his way into the room to be with his little one. 

Thranduil gave a passing not to Thorin before retreating to dale where the rest of his troops were waiting.  Feren met him halfway to town and began asking question, all of which Thranduil answered with a glare.  They had moved his tent and belonging closer to the center of the city and Thranduil was relieved to see a cot already set up for him. 

“King Thranduil what about- “

Thranduil cut Feren off as he pulled the curtain closed to his tent and then dimmed the lanterns.  He needed to rest.  The cot was hard and the fire in the center was hardly large enough to reach this far but Thranduil fell into the bed without complaint and found that sleep was far easier to find than he ever imagined.

***

“Fili!” Nim jolted awake and then gasped as pain shot up her back.  Oin cursed at her for moving so quickly but softened his words by offering some sort of tea that helped sooth the ache in her joints.  “Is Fili okay?”

“He’ll have a limp, but he will live,”  Oin grunted motioning to the sleeping figure tucked away in a corner bed.  “Kili is fine too, a good gash on his shoulder but he should be up and going n no time.”  Oin motioned for her to sit up so he could check her bandages.

Nim leaned forward and stared at the blanket she was draped in.  She ran her fingers across the silken fabric speckled with orc blood and stained with dirt at its bottom.  She pressed her face into the fabric, she could still smell him on it.  The damp of the forest and the sharp tinge of wine. 

“Left that for you.”  Oin grunted peeking between the linen, “Made me put up a curtain and everything.  Wouldn’t leave till he knew you would be looked after.”

“Can I walk?”  Nim asked when Oin stepped away.

“Oh no, don’t even think ‘bout it lass.  You are keeping your burned backside in that bed until you are better, you still look as pale as death.  I’ll tie you down if I have to.”

“Fine. More tea please?” Nim offered her empty cup and Oin took it with an arched brow.  Nim tugged the makeshift blanket over her lap and leaned back into the bed and finally, Oin turned to fill the cup again. 

When he turned back around he dropped the cup and cursed finding Nim’s bed empty.  He rushed out into the hall but she elf was nowhere in sight.  The mat where Toron had made himself at home was empty as well.  Oin rubbed the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on.  He slouched back into his chair muttering about elf this and that. 

“She will be back before dawn.”  Fili yawned sitting up in his bed.  “When she disappeared at night in the blue mountains she was always back by dawn.” 

“She better not come back, or I’ll show her dragon fire!”  Oin growled.

***

Thranduil sat up as the light brightened in his tent, “What are you doing here?  You should be in bed.” 

“I- “Nim trailed off now unsure of her motives.  She was so sure she had to see him back at the mountain.  With Thranduil in front of her now though she realized the foolishness of her actions and bowed her head a bit.

“Sit down before you faint.”  Thranduil ushered her towards the cot and sat her down.  Nim offered back the cloak and Thranduil took it only to drape it around her shoulders.  “You are as insane as they come.” 

“I’m sorry I let the dwarves out and that I lied to you, I’m sorry I said all those horrible things.  I just don’t know how to do... .this.”

“Do what?” 

“This!” Nim lifted the cloak around her shoulders and the dropped her hands to her side, “I don’t stay in places, I don’t get close to people.  I don’t do this.” 

“Do you want to stay?”  Thranduil asked quietly.

“I don’t know.”  Nim leaned into Thranduil and closed her eyes, “I shouldn’t have come.  I’ll go back to the mountain.” 

“Stay.”  Thranduil grabbed her hand, “You look exhausted.”  Thranduil tugged his blanket up and wrapped it around her as well, “Rest and we will return you in the morning.”  He promised glad to feel her relaxing on his side as she began to doze off. 

He leaned back into the cot, gently guiding Nim with him.  She lay with her back to him, her breaths slow and deep as she finally rested.  He found himself tracing one of the scars not quite covered by the bandages.  The skin dipped inward signaling where the flesh had been gouged away.   Within the valley, the skin was rough as her body struggled to repair such damage.  His hands found another just barely coiling over her shoulder, this was rose from the plane of her back.

***

“Thank you.”

Thranduil jumped as he rounded on the voice.  Wherever he was it was not his tent, though it looked strikingly similar.  He turned and Nim was still asleep on the cot though her image seemed faded and tired.  Thranduil then turned to the figure who spoke. 

He was an elf, perhaps a bit shorter than most.  His sable hair was longer than most, brushing past his shoulder blades.  Only a few sparing braids pulled it from his face.  He looked like the average elf, though his green eyes held the same look as Nim’s.  They showed his age, the time, the torment. 

“you are the elf she spoke of.”  Thranduil supplied remembering Nim’s waking words.

“I am.  Callon, at your service.”  He bowed a bit.

“So what is this?  I do not know of any elves in the land capable of such a feet.”

Callon shrugged something mischievous flickering in his eyes, “I’m bending a rule or two.  Valar is a place of great power and if you find the right place you can do just about anything.  I’ve done a few honorable deeds during my time, so the higher-ups are looking the other way for the moment.”  His smile was all teeth, and Thranduil had an inkling he had seen it before. 

“So why-”

“To thank you . . . and perhaps curse you a little as well.”  Callon shrugged his gaze wondering to Nim.  “I wanted to help her pass over.  Leaving one’s body is not easy, the only reason she lasted so long was because part of her was too frightened to let go.  I was there, trying to ease her into accepting the inevitable when I heard you.”  His gaze flickered to Thranduil, “she heard you as well, it made her angry and I almost let you walk on.  Then I thought better of it.”

Thranduil recalled the sensation of the hand on his shoulder.

“Then look at my surprise when you started healing the dwarf.  Lord Thranduil, king of the snobs.”  Callon snorted a bit but then his gaze grew sad.  “I had waited so long to see her, to hear her voice.  I wanted to lift her into my arms and swing her about like I used to. . . For her to look at me and know me once more.  Seems that time has not come just yet.”

“You could sail back.”  Thranduil’s traitorous mind supplied, “Others have done it.”

“Do you know how many times I stood on the shore watching the boats go, longing to.”  Callon shook his head, “It would only cause her pain to see me now, and I’ve seen her in enough.”  Callon’s image seemed to waver a bit.

“Does she not recall you in the cave?”

“No, no more than she does when she recalls the times in the cages.  It will feel more like a dream, she’ll remember less each day.  You will as well when you wake proper.”  Callon smiled a bit sadly, “Bring her windflowers, strange ones, ugly ones.  Something you wouldn’t think would look nice on a table.  They always made her smile on the days where she was too quiet.”

Thranduil blinks and he is once more laying with Nim curled against him, her face tucked into his shoulder now.  He stared at the space where the elf once stood, the memory of his face already fading his words become muted gibberish.  He tried to cling to it, any of it, but it slips through his fingers as easily as wind. 

Within a few minutes, all he can recall are wildflowers, fields of wildflower.  He stared down at Nim imaging how beautiful she would look with such plants woven into her short locks.  He touches a strand of her hair and Nim’s eyes flicker before opening fully. 

“Did you sleep well?”  Thranduil runs his fingers through her hair, “No bad dreams?”

“Fields, I was in a field, full of wildflowers.”  Her eyes closed for a moment and Thranduil’s ponders the likelihood of them both having the same dream.  He lets the thought fall from focus as Nim reopens her eyes and tilts her head to look at him properly.

“I need to return to Oin . . . it hurts.”  She spoke the last bit quietly, as if ashamed. 

“Then let us return you to the mountain.” 

**Author's Note:**

> As always please feel free to leave comments and kudos letting me know what you thought. I you wish to contact me personally you can find me at my Tumblr --> http://callmecrazyandobsessed.tumblr.com/


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